The Court of Miracles On Trial
by Rainforest Treefrog
Summary: A group of teenage gypsies from the Court of Miracles are about to be put to death by hanging. This is their story.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"Citizens of Paris," yells the archdeacon Claude Frollo. "In the name of God, it is our duty to do what is just and good in the world. These gypsies have disobeyed. They dance in the streets, they practice witchcraft, and they have no rules. It is evil such as this that prompts us to their execution."

His voice droned on and on, but I didn't pay attention. I was only sixteen, but I was now about to die, and I knew it. There was no way to get out of this now. Along side me stood my brothers and sisters, my best friends Henri, Marcel, and Anisa. There were several others among us as well, other gypsies we had been living with in the Court of Miracles, the gypsy safe haven here in Paris.

Things weren't always this way. In fact, they were NEVER this way. We were never criminals, and we were never thieves. Society has just always hated us for some reason, though I've never completely understood why. Gypsies have never hurt anybody, or at least not _me _and _my _friends.

My name is Julian, and the story of how we have gotten here is a long one. But I'll tell you anyway, because it is important that you understand the way we gypsies really are, and how bad we have it.

It all started long ago, far away from here…


	2. How It All Started

**Chapter I.**

**How It All Started**

Believe it or not, me and my gang didn't always live in Paris, in the Court of Miracles. We weren't always gypsies either.

I, along with my brothers and sisters: Heidi, Jasmine and Ramus were born in Constantinople, in Turkey. The city is also called Istanbul. Our mother was a traveler from Spain, who married our Turkish dad. Then after the crusades, they were both killed. But I still remember those golden days in Turkey. Ramus and I would go fishing at the docks all day and bring home our catch that we were so proud of. Usually they were skimpy little mackerels or baby stingrays, but every once in a while we'd catch something big like a tuna or a barracuda.

Every night, we would sit around the fireplace of our small little stone house. Our dog Wolfen would sleep by our feet and we would listen to our father tell stories. Those were the good days. But they were not to last. After the crusades, both our parents were killed.

"Julian, what's happening?" my little sister Heidi was wailing. Outside our home, soldiers were killing everyone in sight, and burning down homes.

"Ramus," my father called, "get your younger siblings to safety. We're not all going to make it out alive. Your mother and I will stay here to keep them at bay, just get Julian, Heidi and Jasmine out of here."

Ramus was the oldest of us all. And he would never disobey my father's orders, not even in a time like this.

So, he gathered us all up and after giving both our parents goodbye one last time, we evacuated our house, through a back window. I remember that in that house, there was a secret hall that led to an underground tunnel and ended in an alley. Hurriedly, Ramus rushed us along, though Heidi was screaming about our parents.

"Ramus, what's going to happen to mama and papa?" she bawled.

"They'll be fine," Ramus lied to her. He obviously didn't want to break the bad news to her to soon, especially when he could barely take it himself. But_ I_ knew exactly what was going on.

When we reached the end of the tunnel, we could see the glow of the fire, illuminating the city's shadowed streets. People were screaming everywhere. I remember seeing a pair of soldiers beating a poor woman, while her young child lay screaming on the pavement nearby.

"We have to get out of here before we end up like that," Ramus told us, ushering us out of the alleyway, toward the docks that led out to sea.

"Ramus, why are those mean people doing those things?" Heidi asked.

Ramus bit his lip, because Heidi was to young to know about these things.

"We're in a war," Jasmine answered her. "And apparently those people are against us. They want to kill us because of that."

Heidi didn't say anything, as we quickly fled.

The last thing I remember after that terrible night was when a kind man at the docks lent us a small boat for us to escape in.

"No charge," he said, with a hint a sorrow of in his voice. He seemed to know that by the time this night was over he would no longer be alive to ever need money or a house again.

Looking at him sadly, Jasmine, Heidi, Ramus, our dog Wolfen and I all stepped into the boat, and pushed away from the dock. Ramus grabbed the oars and pushed us out into the Bosporus.

I didn't sleep a wink that night. The place that had been my childhood home was now burning before me, like the fires of hell. It even seemed like that place, with the eerie wailing, screaming and shouting, heard among the crackling of the flames.

Jasmine, who was the second oldest, (I being thirteen at that age, was the third oldest, and of course Heidi at age nine was the youngest) cried softly as we drifted along in the boat. Even Wolfen seemed to know that what was happening was not good. He joined in with Jasmine by howling mournfully.

To this day, I will remember that night as the worst of my existence.

* * *

Early that morning, after sleeping for a no more than an hour and a half in the boat, I awoke to find that we were washed ashore. The minarets, towers, mosques and cathedrals of Istanbul were no where sight. The city was far behind us, burning to the ground, no doubt.

But the shore here was different, it was rocky and there were date palms and poplars growing in the hills farther inland.

"Where are we?" I asked Ramus. He was the only one of us had ever left the city. At age fifteen, he had traveled to Greece.

"Are we in Greece," I asked him.

Ramus didn't answer, just shrugged.

"I don't know where we are," he replied. "But we can't be far from the city. And that means the soldiers who killed mom and dad are nearby. We have to leave this place as soon as possible. I'm guessing we're in somewhere in Turkey, or maybe Greece. We should travel North, because the Crusaders are going south, to the Holy Land. We have to be out of there way."

And that was the start of our journey. Our journey that would eventually lead us from Istanbul to Paris, France somewhere along the way.

* * *

_**Ok, kind of violent I know, and not very historically accurate, but it is rated T and it is Fiction. I'll try to update every weekend, but I'm pretty busy, so we'll see how that goes. Thanks for reading. Please review. After someone reads, I'm going to take this footnote off. Thanks! **_


	3. Journey Inland

**Chapter II. **

**Journey Inland**

For days and days, we traveled away from the coast. We journeyed across endless rolling hills, through winding river valleys, and stopped only to get food in the small farming villages along the way. We didn't dare spend the night in any of those villages however, for fear the soldiers would attack.

Finally, at the end of day seven I think it was, we began to climb into a mountain range. It started out easy, but the slope began to get steeper and it was beginning to get harder and harder to continue. And it was the first time I ever felt what it truly felt like to be cold. The winds weren't anything like the warm, sea breezes from our home in Istanbul; they were strong, fierce and chilling to the bone.

"Can't we please stop to make camp for the night," I asked Ramus. "We could make a fire to warm us."

Ramus shook his head. "No, the wind up here would blow it out anyway." He pointed above us, to a cave towards the top of the mountain. "We'll camp out up there, it looks perfect."

So we all agreed and followed our brother up the hill, even though we barely had the energy to walk halfway up. Even our energetic dog Wolfen seemed to be tired. That's what's so strange about the mountains; you can't judge distance worth a damn. You think you are almost there, but you find out that you're only half way. From where we had started off, it looked like it would take us five minutes to climb up to the cave, but it took us thirty.

Finally, we dragged our limp bodies into the mouth of the cavern, and tumbled to the cave floor in exhaustion. Ramus laid out the blankets we had gotten from the people in one of the villages, so we would have something to sleep on. Somehow, he found the energy to return outside and gather firewood from the junipers and pine trees that grew near the cave. When he returned, we soon had a roaring bon fire, and the shivering cold of the highlands melted away as the flame's heat turned the cave into a sauna.

"That was the farthest we've ever walked," Heidi moaned. "My limbs are so sore."

"Tomorrow we must resume our journey," Ramus announced as we all sat around the fire.

"You can't be serious, Ramus," Jasmine objected. "After today? Do you really think we would have the energy to continue any farther?"

"Yah, I think we should rest for a day," I said.

"But we have to keep going," Ramus insisted. "Do you want the soldiers that killed mom and dad to find us?"

"Ramus, we're miles away from Istanbul. I don't even think we're in the same empire anymore. The soldiers are miles south of us. We'll be fine if we stay here to rest for a few days. By the way, where do you think we are?"

Ramus paused for a second. "We've been traveling north for several days now. We are probably somewhere in Greece, but I've never been to these mountains before."

It turned out that we were in the Balkans Mountains, but we didn't find that out until later.

"I miss mom and dad," Heidi said softly. "When are we going to see them again?"

I looked at both Jasmine and Ramus for an answer. I already knew it, but I was wondering what they were going to tell Heidi. They were both looking at each other uneasily, biting their lips.

"Um, Heidi," Ramus said slowly to Heidi, "we're not going to see mom and dad again for a long, long time."

"How long?" Heidi asked, her eyes wide. Her long brown hair was tangled messily in her face, which was caked with dried mud. She stared innocently at my brother with her large brown eyes.

"Forever," I suddenly blurted out to her. "Heidi, mom and dad are dead."

"Don't say that!" Heidi wailed.

"Why did you have to break it to her that way?!" Ramus asked, shoving me angrily. "Things are bad enough as it is, we don't need Heidi to know about this yet."

"Why? Why does it matter when you tell her? Sooner or later she was bound to find out anyway, at least now we don't have to keep it a secret. Mom and dad are dead, and there's nothing we can do about it."

"Let's just get some sleep," Ramus said, his voice resentful.

But sleep didn't come very easily that night. Heidi sobbed quietly in the corner of the cave, and I felt tears welding up in my eyes as well. But I couldn't cry, I was a man. Thirteen years old, sure, but no longer a boy. I had to cope.

The next day I woke up early, before any of my siblings. When I looked outside, I was astonished to see the sky was gray, and small white things were falling to the ground. It had already covered the mountainside, and when I stepped through it wearing my leather sandals, it was cold and wet against my feet.

_Could this be snow?_ I wondered to myself. I remembered my mother telling us stories of Europe, before she moved to Turkey and how in the winter snow would fall to the ground in the forest and everyone would go outside and play in it. In Istanbul, it had always been to warm for snow to fall.

It was amazing what a good night's sleep could do, because I didn't feel tired at all as I explored the snowy mountainside. We were so near the top, that I could look down and see the hills and valleys below, the ones we had been hiking through. I could even see a small stone village in the distance, where the domes of an Orthodox cathedral towered above the other buildings.

I would have gazed at the view all day, if I hadn't heard the something behind me. It was a bleating sound, like a sheep. I turned around to see a little black and white goat. He was skinny, that was for sure, as though he hadn't eaten in a while.

"Come here, little guy," I said softly to the animal.

He paused, as though it wasn't sure this was such a good idea, but then curiosity got the best of him, and he walked over to me.

"Sorry, I don't have any food," I said, sensing that he was extremely hungry, like the rest of us. I figured he must have gotten separated from his herd or something.

"Do you want to come with me?" I asked.

I took yes for an answer, when he followed me back to the cave. Jasmine, Ramus, and Heidi were up. Heidi had large red rings around her eyes, proof that she had been crying all night.

"Where the hell have you been!?" Ramus asked angrily. "We've all been worried sick!"

"Um…I'm fine," I assured him, "but look who I brought with me."

"Julian, we already have the dog to feed, we don't want a goat."

"Actually," said Jasmine. "We could get milk from the goat. And cheese. And goats just eat grass, right, so he could just graze. I think it's a good idea to keep him."

"See, Jasmine agrees with me," I said defiantly. "We're keeping him. We shall call him…um…what's a good name for a goat? Well, we'll figure it out later."

Ramus rolled his eyes. That was ok. He _always _thought my ideas were stupid. But for now, I was happy because we had a goat.


	4. Over The Mountains And Through The Woods

**Chapter III. **

**Over The Mountains And Through The Woods**

As Ramus had promised the night before, we spent the next few days resting in the cave. Luckily, our new goat got along well with our dog Wolfen.

"Uh, Julian," said Jasmine. "The goat's a female. You'll have to come up with a feminine name for her."

"Really?" I asked. "I thought it was a he."

"Male goats don't have utters though," Jasmine pointed out. "Which is just as well, because otherwise we wouldn't be able to get milk from her."

Surprised, I looked. Jasmine was right. The goat _did_ have an utter, so was obviously a girl.

"Uh, ok, we'll call her…um…Carmen. Yah, Carmen the goat, I like it." Our mother's name had been Carmen, because she was from Spain, so I decided to name our new pet after her.

"You're naming the goat after mother?" Ramus asked.

"Uh, yah, is that a _bad_ thing?" I asked, expecting Ramus to find _something_ wrong with the idea.

"No, no, it's fine," Ramus replied. "I think mother would like that."

That was a shock. Ramus didn't usually agree.

Heidi dug off some of the snow near the cave so that Carmen could have a patch of mountain grass to graze on, until we moved on.

We spent the next few days at the cave doing mostly nothing. The day before we left, Ramus hiked down to the village in the valley, to get us food for the remainder of our journey. I didn't know where exactly we were headed, but Ramus and Jasmine seemed to want to get us as far away from the Mediterranean Sea as possible.

Finally, by dawn of the second day, we gathered up our food, and blankets, and took Carmen and Wolfen with us, and we began the treacherous journey over the mountains.

* * *

In all honesty, it wasn't very difficult getting across the Balkans. The mountain tundra was frigid and snowy, but the path we took getting through wasn't so bad. We avoided the tall peaks, and took the easy routes through all the valleys and canyons. Finally, after a few days of traveling through what seemed like endless highlands, the ground began to flatten out, and large deciduous trees soon took place of the mountain pines. It began to get extremely humid, something that we hadn't experienced before in Turkey and Greece.

"Where are we?" I asked Ramus, who was leading us.

"Not sure," was the only reply I got.

We continued for a while, until the land became completely flat, and the only reminder of the mountains was their distant outline against the setting sun behind us.

It was beginning to get dark, but not just because the sun was going down. The forest here was so dense that it blocked out almost all sunlight. It was a bit creepy. I had never seen this many trees in my life.

That night, as we set up camp in a small forest clearing, I tried hard to ignore the strange sounds woodland creatures. I had never felt so isolated from civilization in my entire life.

Early the next morning, the first thing that I remember is that I was extremely hungry. We were running low on our food supply, and had been fasting for the past few days. It had defiantly taken it's toil on me, and I was famished. When I reached for the leather bag that contained our bread and vegetables, Ramus stepped on my hand, reminding me that it was for later.

"Can't we just have a little?" I begged him.

"We have to save our food until we find a town. Unless of course we can find a stream to catch fish, but we didn't bring any of our fishing gear with us, so that's a problem."

I was about to grumble some rude reply, but decided I'd best not waste my breath. No matter what I told him, Ramus wasn't going to listen.

"Hey, you guys, what's that?" Jasmine asked, suddenly.

"What?"

"Listen," she said, "it sounds like music."

I paused and concentrated on listening to whatever it was that Jasmine was talking about. It was very faint, but I could just make out the sounds of a violin and a flute somewhere in the forest.

"It must be other people," Jasmine reasoned, "let's go find them."

We gathered up our stuff, and the animals and headed toward the sound of the distant melody. Soon, we could smell smoke, and when we looked up, we could see a faint trail of it floating over the treetops. That meant there was a camp nearby.

We continued to follow the sound of the music, and soon came to a clearing. In it, were a circle of wagons and colorful tents, all positioned around a roaring campfire. There were people too. They were dressed in colorful clothes and dancing around the fire to the beat of the music. Some of them were shaking tambourines and castanets as they danced.

"Who are they?" Heidi whispered.

For once, Ramus couldn't answer the question. None of us had ever seen people like this before.

Tied to some of the wagons were some of the most beautiful horses I had ever seen. They were tall, with long manes and in a kaleidoscope of colors. There were also several chickens pecking at seeds around the fire, as well as some sheep and pigs wandering around the camp. They appeared to be travelers, just like us.

That's when one of them noticed us watching them from the trees. In a foreign language that none of us understood, he alerted the rest of the people, and before we knew it, they had all stopped dancing and were rushing toward us. Some of them carried clubs and knives.

"We should get out of here, RIGHT NOW!!!" I hollered.

I didn't have to say it twice. We all began running in the opposite direction. But, escape was futile because several of the travelers had mounted horses and had run in front of us, blocking our escape route. There was no way out…


	5. Meeting Clopin And The Gypsies

**Chapter IV. **

**Meeting Clopin And The Gypsies**

I was paralyzed with fear. It wasn't the same terror that I had experienced that night when Istanbul was burnt down. This was a completely different fear. The fear of being caught. And we were.

Part of what made it so nerve racking was the fact that none of us had the slightest clue what these people were saying. It was a foreign tongue that I had never heard before.

They were dragging us back to their camp now. When we got there, they tied all four us to a post in the middle of the camp, near their campfire. Then, they began to talk amongst themselves, as if trying to figure out what to do with us. Obviously, they had never seen people like us either, so we weren't the only shocked ones.

Scanning the camp, I noticed that some of the travelers were teenagers about our age. They were all staring at us, and them seemed interested. I didn't know at the time if it was good or bad.

Eventually, the man who seemed to be their leader stepped forward. The others were bombarding him with questions, but he brushed them aside, his eyes intent on Ramus, Jasmine, and Heidi and I.

"Bonjour," he said, in a thick accent to a language that I had never heard. I was surprised that he could actually speak the same language as us. "I am Clopin," he continued. "I don't know who _you _are yet, but I'm guessing by your clothes and appearance, that you are from the city of Constantinople, or what do you call it now…Istanbul?"

All four of us nodded our heads.

"How did you know that?" asked Ramus.

"I have traveled to many lands," Clopin replied. "And I instantly recognized you as Turks when I saw you."

I remember feeling awkward that someone could tell where I was from just the way I looked. I nodded slowly, and let Ramus introduce ourselves.

"I am Ramus," he said, "and this is my brother Julian, and my two sisters Jasmine and Heidi."

Clopin nodded. "Good to meet you. As I said before, my name is Clopin, and this is my band of gypsies. We are actually a long way from home right now as well, because our real home is in Paris, many miles west of here."

"Paris?" asked Heidi.

"Yes, indeed," replied Clopin. "We've been here in Romania for most of the summer collecting items from the forest to use back in France. We return by the end of the week."

"Wait, so we're in Romania right now?" asked Ramus, astounded. "I had no idea we'd come that far."

"Yes, indeed," Clopin replied. "It's very beautiful here wouldn't you agree? I was born here before I moved to Paris, but the rest of us here are from Spain."

"Spain, where's that?" asked Heidi. (We had little knowledge of the world outside of Turkey).

"West of France," Clopin replied.

One of the other gypsies, as Clopin had said they were called began to speak to him rapidly in that strange language again. Clopin, nodded a few times, then shook his head, nodded again, and than shouted something back at him, frustrated.

"What was that all about?" Jasmine asked.

"Ah, that is just one of my friends. He's worried about you four being strangers. He says it's dangerous to trust people you have never met."

"Believe me, sir, we're far from dangerous," Ramus replied.

"Oh, I'm not the one worried. It is just the rest of us. We learn at a young age that there are few people in the world who you can really trust."

As I stared around us at the other gypsies, I could tell that they all seemed a bit hostile. Except for Clopin, none of them seemed very friendly.

"Now, we'll cut to the chase," said Clopin, this time not as kindly as before. "You have either two options, join us or have your throats slit."

"Isn't that a little harsh?" asked Jasmine. "I mean, what did we do that was so wrong."

"I'm sorry," Clopin said in an expressionless voice. "This is what we have to do in order to keep the Court of Miracles a secret."

"The Court of Miracles?" I asked, "what's that?"

Clopin laughed. "It is us," he replied. "All of us, together we make up the gypsies of the Court of Miracles. We are named after our secret hideaway in Paris. Now, would you like to become one of us or not?"

That was a no brainer question. Of course we wanted to join. I mean we obviously had come to far to die now, and didn't have anywhere else to go as it was.

But of course the question was left up to stupid Ramus to decide. I was surprised that it took him so long to actually say that we wanted to join. When he did, he seemed to be speaking more for ourselves than himself. That was typical of him.

"We'll join," he replied.

"Ah, it isn't as simple as that," said Clopin, chuckling slightly. It was a demented chuckle, sort of the same kind that the villain would always give before he did something terrible in all the fairy tales. But this wasn't a fairy tale, it was real. _What did Clopin mean that it wasn't as simple as that?_

Clopin turned away from us, to face the other gypsies. He began to bark orders in that strange foreign language again, and the other gypsies did exactly as he said, smiling to themselves, and I heard mean laughter from some of them.

Two burly men came out of a tent pushing a cart with a dummy on it. The dummy was supposed to resemble a person, and it jingled, because there were many bells tied to it.

"What the hell are we supposed to do with this?" Ramus asked, frustrated.

Clopin chuckled. "You're task is simple. In order to prove to us that you are worthy enough to live in the Court of Miracles, you must pickpocket the dummy without ringing a single bell. Also, I won't tell you where the money is, because part of your task is to find it. If I, or anyone else hears a single bell ring, then it's off with all your heads. Oh, and to make it a little more interesting for the rest of us, you have to do it while standing on one leg."

I could see Ramus's eyes were bugging out of his sockets.

"Are you completely serious!?" he asked. "You want me to do that? That's impossible."

"Would you rather we slit all your throats right now?"

"No, I just…never mind, we'll do it."

Never before had I ever seen Ramus more nervous than right now. I held my breath as he walked toward the dummy. Our fate was in his hands, literally…


	6. Becoming Gypsies

**Chapter V.**

**Becoming Gypsies**

Slowly, Ramus approached the dummy, strewn with small bells.

"Remember," came Clopin's voice, "if we hear even the slightest ring from the bells, you won't be worthy to live us, and we will execute you promptly."

Ramus didn't reply, but I knew from the way he was breathing so harshly, that Clopin's words were resounding in his eardrums.

Heidi, Jasmine, and myself all remained chained to the wooden post. Carmen and Wolfen stood nearby. They too, seemed to know the graveness of the situation. It was deathly quiet, as if the whole forest was holding its breath, waiting to see if Ramus would retrieve the money without making a sound. Not a single bird crowed, nor a single squirrel chattered. All was silent.

The other gypsies were enjoying the suspense, as if someone was reading a horrific story to them, and they were all waiting to see what would happen.

Ramus was about to reach out and slowly touch the dummy, when Clopin interrupted him again.

"Remember my friend, you must stand on one foot while you do this."

Ramus stopped, and made a sound that was a mixture of a sigh, groan, and desperate plea for mercy.

"Do I have to"- he began before he was interrupted a second time.

"No questions," Clopin said. "Just get this show on the road."

Ramus sighed again, and lifting his left leg up slightly, he reached out again for the dummy. We all crossed our fingers as his hand touched the dummy's worn garments. Ever so slowly, he padded down on the dummy's chest, slowly moving down to the stomach, feeling for a bulge that would indicate the money.

"I forgot to mention," Clopin added, yet again, "if you fall down, you lose."

"Great," I heard Ramus mutter sarcastically.

He continued padding the body of the dummy. Suddenly, he began to waver on his one foot. In desperation, he tried to right himself again, but to no avail; his one leg buckled under him and he began to topple over. He would have hit the ground, but suddenly Carmen and Wolfen both ran under him, catching him from his fall.

My stomach jumped into my throat. _What were they going to do about this?_

Before the thought had even registered in my head, I heard a rise of whispers in that strange language from the other gypsies. They too were wondering how Clopin was going to judge this.

"It seems as though you have fallen down," Clopin said, smiling wickedly. "And as I previously mentioned, you lose."

Those were the words I had been dreading the most. Now, we were to be killed.

"No, come on, please give me another chance!" Ramus begged. "At least don't kill the others on my account."

"I already stated the rules," Clopin smirked. "I'm sorry, this is the way things are. Hope you've had a nice life up to this point. It would be most unfortunate to look back on wasted memories."

Suddenly, one of the other gypsies, an old woman spoke up. She began to speak rapidly to Clopin, but of course, we couldn't understand what she was saying.

"Ah," said Clopin, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "You may be in luck. I was just reminded that if any of the unmarried madens here will take you for a husband, than you and your little family thing will be saved." Turning to everyone else watching he asked if anyone would take Ramus for their husband. But when no one stepped forward, Clopin turned to us again.

"Well, well, well. It seems as though you're out of luck. No one here wants to marry you. I'll have my men prepare four nooses."

"I'll marry him," said a voice suddenly.

We all turned to see a girl about the same age as Ramus. She was tall, had long black hair, and hoop earrings, and was barefooted. She was actually very attractive, and I felt a stab of jealousy for a moment, even though she was older than me.

"Anisa?" Clopin asked. He seemed shocked. "Anisa, you don't have to do this. Are…are you sure you want to do this?"

The girl, who seemed to be called Anisa, gave him a little look.

"Of course I want to do this. Why not?"

I could see that both she, and Ramus were nervous. I guess they had never pictured getting married like this.

Clopin sighed. Obviously, he was looking for some entertainment today by hanging somebody.

"Very well," he said reluctantly. "Ramus, do you take Anisa to be your wife?"

"Uh…uh…yah,…I…I do," he replied awkwardly. Little beads of sweat were forming on his brow. He was _really_ nervous.

"And Anisa, do you take Ramus to be your husband?"

"I do," she replied quickly, taking little time to even consider the idea.

Clopin nodded, and pulled out a ceramic jug. Turning to Ramus, he said, "break this."

"What?" Ramus asked, confused. "Break it?"

"Yes, break the jug," Clopin said, sighing.

Ramus slammed the jug into the ground, where it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

* * *

That night we had a warm place to sleep for the first time in ages. Now that we were officially gypsies in the Court of Miracles, my mind was at ease, that we had a place to live, and that Clopin wasn't going to kill us. I still found it hard to believe that the things that had happened, happened.

I had really taken a liking to Anisa. She didn't speak much of our language, but she introduced us to her two brothers.

"This," she said slowly, "is my brother Henri. And this, is my other brother Marcel. They are, um…how do you say it?...twins?"

"Hello," I replied. "I'm Julian. I guess we'll be getting to know each other pretty well."

Marcel and Henri both nodded. It appeared that they didn't completely understand what I was saying, although they got the general idea. They seemed about the same age as me, though it was hard to tell. Henri had brown hair and brown eyes, and Marcel had the same hair color, but flashing intelligent green eyes. Playfulness shimmered in them.

The two brothers showed us to the tent they were living in.

"You…," Marcel said slowly, "can sleep in tent with us, at tonight."

"Thank you," I said gratefully. Now that we were one of them, it was surprising how kind and hospitable the gypsies were.

Both brothers nodded.

Jasmine and Heidi were tenting with three other gypsy girls.

Finally, we had a home.

But that night, as were sleeping, I overheard a conversation between Ramus and Anisa. Marcel and Henri were asleep, so I rose from the pile of blankets that made up my bed, and I pressed my ear against the tent fabric, listening.

"So, we're uh…married," Ramus said slowly and awkwardly.

"Yah, so," said Anisa. "Go to sleep."

"That's all you have to say?" Ramus asked.

I heard Anisa sigh. "I only did it to save your life," she replied. "I'm sorry, but I simply do not love you in that sort of way. I've just met you. Now, go to sleep."

"Oh, that's…that's ok," Ramus said quietly. "Thank you for doing that though. I really appreciate it. I know Julian, Jasmine, and Heidi appreciate it also. Thank you."

"You are welcome," Anisa answered. "Now please, go to sleep, ok?"

For the first time, I actually felt bad for my brother. He had never been good at this whole thing and it must be painful to know that the woman who he was married to didn't love him.

"Can we at least be friends?" Ramus asked, slowly, with uncertainty in his voice.

There was a pause.

"Perhaps."


	7. On The Road To Paris

**Chapter VI. **

**On The Road To Paris**

Just as Clopin had said, we spent little time in that forest camp in Romania. In fact, the day after the wedding, we packed up the tents and supplies into the covered wagons, hitched the animals, and were on the move. Clopin's goal was to get back into France as soon as possible.

That's when I found out what the language was that these gypsies spoke. It was French, although some of them also spoke Spanish.

"Bonjour means hello," Marcel explained to me, as our "caravan" of covered wagons paraded through the forest. "Como ca va? means How are you?"

He and his brother Henri taught me as much as they could. I spent the days with them as we traveled through the woods by practicing the language with them, and learning new words. By the end of the first week, I had practiced so much, that I was already conversational, and was beginning to understand bits and pieces of what the other gypsies were saying. They mostly talked about how good it would be to get back to Paris, and how they would be just in time for the Festival of Fools if they kept to the travel schedule as Clopin said they would.

"What is the Festival of Fools?" I asked Marcel and Henri as we sat in the covered wagon with Anisa, Ramus, Heidi, and Jasmine. _(We had all grown close over the past few days, even Ramus and Anisa were becoming friends). _The wagon rocked along gently, and occasionally jolted suddenly when we hit ruts in the ancient road that we were traveling through.

"It's the best time of the year in Paris," Henri answered, excitedly. "It's the one day when it doesn't matter if you are French soldier, the king, the pope, the archdeacon, a commoner, or a gypsy. It's the day we are all there to celebrate the carnival season before Lent. There are parades, dances, feasts, music, and lots of other stuff. It's also the day when we pick the ugliest person in the city to be king for one day."

"Sounds fun," I said. "Although isn't it a bit cruel to pick someone just because they look ugly?"

"No," Henri answered, "after all, they get to be king for a whole day right? What's so cruel about that?"

I nodded, although it still seemed a bit strange.

The caravan continued for the rest of the day, and we camped in a hollow in the forest. The trees were slowly changing from the large deciduous and pines that we had seen in Romania, to Junipers, and date palms, just like in Greece and Turkey. In the distance, was the faint shining outline of the sea.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"A few miles outside of Venice," replied Anisa. She and her brothers and the rest of the Court of Miracles had obviously taken this route before many times because they had known of all stops along the way so far.

"What's Venice?" I asked.

"It's this really cool city where there are no roads, or streets, just canals, because you see, the entire city is in a lagoon. All the buildings are on little islands and to get from one place to another, you take a little boat called a gondola."

"Wow," I replied. _It sounded really exciting! I remembered now that my mother had told us a story of her travels in Italy, where she had traveled to a city like this one where there was water everywhere. It had to be the same one, after all how many places in the world could be like Venice? _

"We'll be there tomorrow," Anisa answered, before the question had even rolled off my tongue.

The next morning, we all got up bright and early and the caravan moved closer and closer towards the coast. I was bursting with excitement to see this place. The more the other gypsies told me about it, the more exciting and interesting of a place it sounded. Finally, we arrived at the shore. The water beyond was a deep emerald green, tinged with blue. Far out towards the horizon, I could see the outline of the city, Venice. There were domes, towers, and church spires visible, even from this distance.

Obviously, we couldn't get the wagons across the water, so we waited for a boat to come by and meet us, and we boarded it. Some of the other gypsies brought stuff that they could trade in the city, and money to stock up on food for our journey to France, which according to Clopin, was still a little ways away.

I couldn't believe it though, once the boat got us into Venice, and we all got off at a dock.

"Everybody," Clopin said to us all when we had all gotten off the dock. "We are going to spend the night here tonight, but we leave bright and early in the morning so we can reach Rome as soon as possible. We'll all meet here in at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. If you aren't here, I guess you'll have to stay here until we come back next year, because we aren't waiting for anybody."

Everyone else got a chuckle out of that, and then we dispersed.

"Come on!" Henri and Marcel called, as they began to run away from everybody else, down an alley. I followed, running fast to stay up with them.

When we came to the end of the alley, we found that there was nothing but water in front of us: a canal. Farther down it, a gondola was slowly gliding towards us. Marcel called for the gondolier to come over and pick us up.

"We're going to show you something _really _cool," Marcel told me as we stepped into the strangely shaped boat. It was like a large canoe, but one end stood high, and the image of lion was carved into it.

I sat tight as the gondolier pushed off with the large oar he was carrying and we began to glide down the canal. There were rows and rows of elegant buildings on either side of us. They were made of plaster, and the roofs of the buildings were red tiles. Sculptures of winged lions were almost everywhere.

"Those are the lions of St. Mark," Marcel told me. "They represent St. Mark, the patron saint of Venice."

"Wow, cool," I said in awe. _This place was so awesome! _

We also passed under various arches and bridges that crossed over the canals.

"That's the bridge of sighs," Henri said. "It leads to a prison, and all the prisoners sigh as they walk over it, knowing that they will never come out again."

Finally, the gondolier stopped the boat.

"This is where we get out," Marcel said, and we stepped out, thanked the gondolier, and I followed Marcel and Henri into a large open square. At one end of the square was a large clock tower with a pointed top. According to the clock, it was half past noon. On another side of the square, was a large palace with beautiful domes and intricate carved designs and paintings on it.

"Welcome to St. Mark's Square," Marcel told me. "The heart of Venice."

I immediately noticed that there was an enormous flock of pigeons in the square that pecked at the ground for scraps of food that people might have left, and took to the air whenever a little kid ran through them. _I could live here,_ I told myself.

But of course, we had to move on, and the next day, we all met where Clopin said we should, and the boat took us back to the mainland of Italy. And from there, we continued to travel across Europe to get to Paris. We stopped along the way in Rome, Florence, St. Tropez, and then finally got into France. From there, we went to Marseilles, and then traveled north. Finally, almost two weeks after leaving Venice, we arrived at our destination: Paris, at last.

I had thought Venice was beautiful, but I wasn't prepared for what Paris had to offer. We all arrived at the city by traveling along the Seine River. We unloaded all the cargo from the covered wagons onto boats, and floated down the river into the city. As we floated along, I was astonished by the city that was to be my new hometown. There were houses, taverns, spooky alleys, gothic churches with gargoyles, and tons of other things. But the most striking thing of all was Notre Dame. We got out of the boats on the island where the grand cathedral was located. Marcel said that the island was called Ile de la cite. It was the oldest part of the city, and Notre Dame towered high above it.

I don't know to this day exactly how to explain the splendor of Notre Dame. The bell towers, the purple rose windows, the gargoyles, the spires, wow! It is defiantly something that everyone should see before they die.

This was our new home. Paris, and Notre Dame.


	8. The Festival Of Fools

**Chapter VII.**

** The Festival Of Fools**

Soon after arriving in Paris, it was January 6th, the first day of Epiphany, and the day of the Festival of Fools. I couldn't wait!

We had all become quite at home in the new city, and we lived in an underground catacomb, near Notre Dame. That was the headquarters of the Court of Miracles, and no one else was allowed to know about it, because it preserved our safety. Carmen and Wolfen also seemed to enjoy their new home in France. It was so much different than Turkey, but in a good way.

We all gathered in the square beneath Notre Dame for the day's festivities. There were people everywhere, wearing colorful striped clothes, masks, and hats with large colorful feathers. It was like a masquerade ball.

First, was the dancing and singing. Some of the other gypsies we knew were playing away at violins, and wooden flutes. We all danced to the rhythm, and some of us tied bells to our feet, or tapped on tambourines. Every so often, somebody would shoot confetti into the air, and it would shower down on all of us. There were several people balancing on stilts, and some jugglers with knives.

Next, was the epiphany play. We all watched as some stage actors performed on a tall wooden makeshift stage above the crowd so we could all see. The play was about the three kings, the wise men from the East.

After that was the feasting. (And drinking, for the adults of course). Today this day however, I can't stand the awful stench of alcohol, and I vowed ever since then to never drink it. The food was good though. There was bread, fruit, pasta imported from Italy, tomatoes, and lots of other delicious foods. I gorged myself like a wild boar. It was the most food I had ever eaten in my entire life.

The partying went on late into the afternoon, when everyone hushed.

"What happened?" I asked Marcel.

Marcel didn't answer, just pointed to a tall man in a long black cloak. He was rather old, at least over forty or fifty, and crossed his arms in front of him as though he were carrying something like a book. He had a strange hat with a tassel on it, and the crowds parted to let him get through.

"That's Claude Frollo," Marcel whispered to me. "He's the archdeacon of Notre Dame."

_So that's why everyone was showing him so much respect._ I nodded to Marcel to show that I understood. Eventually, Claude Frollo made his way to our part of the crowd. He stopped and paused when he saw us in our ragged clothes, holding tambourines and castanets, and gave us a contemptuous look.

"Gypsies," he sniffed to himself, and continued on his way, to a tent at the end of the square, where he seated himself behind a tall pedestal with a group of priestly looking men wearing red cloaks. _They must be the cardinals,_ I reasoned.

After he sat down, the long silence ceased as a man somewhere in the crowd jumped onto the wooden stage where the epiphany performers had been. "And now it is the moment you have all been waiting for," he announced, "it is time to crown the ugliest fool of us all to be king for a day."

Everyone in the square cheered loudly, and at one point I had to cover my ears.

Immediately, people from the crowd began to fight their way up to get on the stage. It seemed as though everyone wanted to sit on the thrown for the rest of the day, regardless of how ugly they were.

Finally, the man who had made the announcement allowed no further contestants to enter the stage and ordered the ones already on it to get in a line. They did, and he began to walk down the line, turning to the audience after each one to see their opinion. The first man was booed off almost immediately, and thrown back into the crowd. The same happened for the second, and the third, until finally it was down to two contestants. One was a homely old lady who looked like the prototypical witch, snaggle tooth and wart nose and all. The other was a short man, who had a physical deformity that caused his back to be bent over. His eyes were swollen shut, and his arms were long, like a gorilla. He was defiantly far uglier than the witch lady, the audience decided, and so she was hurled back into the crowd, landing with a thud on the cobblestones below.

"I now pronounce, Quasimodo, the bell ringer of Notre Dame, the King of Fools!" the man announced to the crowd.

Everyone cheered again, just as loud as before the contest had begun.

The hunchbacked man, apparently named Quasimodo jumped off the stage and a group of people hoisted him onto their shoulders. Clopin, who was in charge of some of the events that went on during the festivities, placed a crown on Quasimodo's head. Some of the other gypsies began to play music again, and everyone in the crowd started a procession, with Quasimodo in the front. We then left the square and began to parade through the streets of the city.

Our masquerade procession winded through the alleys of Paris, off the island, and through some of the neighborhoods and suburbs. The parade ended later at night when we returned to the square. By then, many people had branched off procession to go home, wince it was getting late. The day of festivities was seemingly coming to a close.

But when we returned and Quasimodo was returned to where he belonged, I noticed that Frollo was still there, and he didn't seem pleased.

"Quasimodo, come here at once," he ordered.

Like a dog, the hunchback nervously approached the Archdeacon.

"Quasimodo," Frollo said sternly. "What was one of things I told you that you could never do?"

Timidly, Quasimodo answered, "to never leave the cathedral."

"So then, why may I ask, did you disobey me the way you did?" Frollo demanded.

When Quasimodo couldn't come up with an answer, Frollo raised his arm and backhanded the poor hunchback across the face. Quasimodo fell to the ground on impact, and blood began to stream from his face, where the large ring that Frollo was wearing had hit him. But Frollo wasn't done yet, he began to kick him as he lay there on the ground, and then began to whip him with the cord tied around his waist.

He was about to do something more, when a gypsy girl that I recognized from the Court of Miracles, but had never personally talked to, rushed over to Frollo.

"Please hurt him no more!" she begged him. "I can't stand to see a living thing be tortured this way."

"Insolent girl!" Frollo cried, pushing her aside. "I can have you hung for that!"

"Esmeralda," Clopin ordered. "It's time we'd left."

Before anything else could happen, Clopin ushered the rest of us out of the square, leaving the unfortunate bell ringer by himself to be tortured by his cruel master.


	9. Esmeralda And Djali And Fishing

**Chapter VIII. **

**Esmeralda And Djali And...Fishing**

That night, after we had all returned to our home in the catacombs, Clopin decided to hold a meeting, that was mandatory for all the gypsies to attend. It was about Esmeralda.

"Esmeralda!" Clopin said, when we had all gathered around him. Our meeting place in the Court of Miracles, was on an island in the middle of an underground lake in the catacombs. There was a rough wooden bridge connecting the island to the shore.

"Esmeralda!" Clopin repeated when no one answered.

"What?" she finally answered, standing up. She was medium height with long, wavy black hair, like a raven, and with olive colored skin. Her eyes were dark blue and she wore large gold hoop earngs. In truth, she looked a lot like all the other gypsies in the Court of Miracles, yet there was something that I couldn't place my finger on, that seemed different about her. She was also very beautiful.

"Esmeralda, what were you thinking? Correction, you WEREN'T thinking!" Clopin raged at her. "I don't care how much you hate that man, in fact I can assure you that I do to, but if you ever do anything like that again, you will be banished from the Court of Miracle! Do I make myself clear?"

Esmeralda sighed, but reluctantly responded by saying, "yes, Clopin." She seemed to know that she had no other choice.

Clopin sighed as well. "Look, Esmeralda. I didn't mean to be so harsh. But you know as well as anybody else, that Claude Frollo hates us. He hates gypsies and everything about them. He thinks we practice witchcraft, and that we are dirty, and do dirty things. He just doesn't understand, I guess, but the minute he has an excuse to dispose of us, you know he'll do it, and what you did tonight was definantly something he might use against us."

"Did you see what he was doing to the poor hunchback?" Esmeralda cried. "I know Quasimodo is the ugliest thing that walked the Earth since Goliath, but that doesn't mean he deserves to be treated the way he is."

Clopin sighed again. "You always _were_ the most caring one of us," he said. "And I agree that what Frollo did was wrong, but it's not in our power to do anything about it. Love it or hate it, we just aren't high enough in society to make a difference in this city without being beheaded."

Esmeralda nodded, but we could all tell that she wasn't sincere. Not that I blamed her. What Frollo had done to the poor bell ringer was unimaginably cruel.

Clopin closed the meeting by warning us not to get in trouble at Notre Dame with the archdeacon, or it would be the end of the Court of Miracles as we knew it.

"Hey, Julian," said Marcel as we were walking back across the wooden bridge towards our sleeping quarters. "Let's hurry so we can get a few card games in before everyone goes to sleep." _(After midnight all the candles used to light the catacombs were blown out so everyone could get to sleep. Unless it was a special occasion like New Year's Eve in which case the candles were let out to burn all night). _

"Uh, ok," I said half heartedly, for I was barely paying attention. I was trying to see through everyone else, where Esmeralda was. It turned out that she was the last to leave the island.

"Come on Djali," she called to her pet goat, who was eating scraps of food on the floor that the other gypsies had left. It was a pygmy goat, smaller than Carmen, and was white with black ears, legs, and gray patches around the eyes.

"His name's Djali?" I asked.

She looked at me, giving me a funny face. "Um, yah. I notice you and your sisters and brother also have a goat though, right?"

"Yep, we do," I said." Her name is Carmen."

"Carmen? I knew somebody named Carmen before," Esmeralda said. "It was a long time ago, before I came to Paris, when I still lived in Spain. She was a friend of my mother's, but she was trampled to death by a herd of bulls."

"Wow," I said. "Our mom was also called Carmen. She was from Spain too. She…she died just before we came here with you people."

Esmeralda nodded, but didn't ask any questions about how or why our mother had died. I was grateful for that. I was still painful to think about our parents and probably always would be.

"Anyway," Esmeralda said, interrupting the awkward silence, "I have to go off to bed, so I'll see you and everyone else in the morning." She smiled, and then picked up Djali in her arms and carried him away with her.

When I returned to our sleeping quarters, a section of the catacombs, where myself, Marcel, Henri, Jasmine, and Heidi lived (Ramus and Anisa had their own separate place) Marcel was there grinning at me.

"You were hitting on here, weren't you," he said, smiling.

"What? No!"

Marcel just gave me one of those looks. "Do you think I'm an idiot? It's ok, Esmeralda's not a bad choice, though she_ is_ a bit older than you, so I wouldn't get your hopes up."

I sighed. It was probably true. And it was also true that Esmeralda was a few years older, at least seventeen or eighteen, while at this point in time, I was only fourteen. _(I had turned fourteen on the way from Romania to France). _

"Cheer up," Marcel advised. "One of these days you'll meet that person. Just be lucky that you weren't forced into marriage like your brother and my sister."

I laughed a little at that. Not to be mean, but because of the irony of their marriage. It was a plus that Anisa and Ramus were slowly becoming great friends. One day, they would probably truly love each other.

"Anyway, to take your mind off all that sappy love goo, let's play a game. What do you want to play?"

I didn't care, and after a round of Spoons, we hit the hay.

* * *

Early the next morning, I was awoken by Wolfen licking my face, my face completely smothered with dog slobber.

_Gross,_ I thought to myself as I rubbed my eyes open.

Marcel, Henri, Jasmine, and Heidi were already up, munching on their breakfast of bread and…wormy apples. That was one of the downs of living in the Court of Miracles. We were basicly outlaws, and since we had no real jobs, we didn't have money, so we had to settle for whatever we were offered. Most of the money we got was for playing music and dancing in the streets.

Fighting the gag reflex, I picked up one of the apples. After taking one munch out of the mealy green fruit, I almost barfed.

"What happened to all that good food yesterday at the festival?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. That was a_ special _occasion.

"That was a special occasion," Marcel replied, echoing my thoughts.

"You know what would make this place better?" I said. "Real food. Not garbage. It's not like we're hyenas or something. We should eat stuff that normal people eat. Back in Turkey, we ate fish all that time, and we didn't have to pay for it, because we caught it. So you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to teach you all how to fish today. There's got to be stuff swimming in the river that flows through this city."

"You know how to fish?" Marcel asked. "Ok, why not?"

So, that's exactly what we did. We snapped off a few branches from an oak tree that was growing near the river and strung an entire spool of string around them. We now had fishing poles, all we needed was bait. And hooks.

"We're going to need something to lure the fish with I told Marcel. (We were going to use nails that were lying in the street as hooks).

"How about some bread?"

"Nah, that works for minnows, but really big fish like meat," I told him.

"How about some from the butcher?"

"Do you have money?"

"Why use money when you could steal?" Marcel said to me, grinning.

"Are you serious? Steal?"

"Yah, you're in the Court of Miracles now, aren't you?" Marcel asked.

"Yah, but-"

"No buts. Look, don't stress out about it, I'll teach you how to be an expert thief."

"Well," I mumbled. But then I realized that I probably wouldn't get my way out of this one anyway. Marcel had a peculiar way of getting what he wanted, I was beginning to realize.

"Ok," I finally agreed.


	10. A First Time For Everything

**Chapter IX. **

**A First Time For Everything**

"Do we really need to do this?" I asked, nervously as I followed Marcel toward the butcher shop, which was near this particular part of the city. "I mean, don't you think there's a better way? And what happens if we get caught?"

"The whole point of being a _good_ thief, is _not_ to get caught," Marcel said casually, as though this were no big deal to him.

"Look, I guess that you must do this all the time, and are therefore used to it, but I've never stolen anything in my life. Except maybe toys from my siblings when I was younger, but nothing else."

"There's a first time for everything," Marcel replied.

"Is there any way to change your mind?" I asked.

"Nope. It's ok, Julian. It will be fine. Now stop making such a big fuss about it."

We finally approached the butcher shop. The butcher Signor Versagio who was Italian, kept all his meat towards the back of his shop, hanging from the beams that supported the ceiling. He spoke with a thick Italian accent, and because he was such a nice man, it made me feel even worse about what we were about to do.

"Ok," Marcel whispered. "Since it's your first time, I'll give you the easy job. You're going to be the distraction."

"What do I have to do?" I asked.

"Simple, distract!"

"Meaning?"

Marcel sighed. "You really _are _new at this. All you have to do is walk up and start talking to Versagio. Talk to him about, oh I don't know – the weather? Look, I don't care what, just something that will buy time. Meanwhile, I'll sneak around to the back of his shop, steal a hunk of pork or something, and then get out. Then you politely tell him that you have to go, and excuse yourself. Oh, and also pretend that you want to buy meat, but just don't have enough money, so that you don't seem too suspicious. Think you can handle that?"

Reluctantly, I nodded.

"Ok, here goes nothing," Marcel said. "Just don't stress out about it and everything will be fine. And please don't have a nervous breakdown or something."

With that, Marcel ran around the corner behind the shop. There was a door around back that he knew of. It was where he was going to enter and leave.

_What have I gotten myself into?_ I thought. I took a deep breath. _Ok, I can do this._

Nervously, though I tried to hide it, I strolled over to the shop. There were two people already there, an old man, and a kid who appeared to be his grandson. They were buying salami, so I waited patiently behind them. To be perfectly honest, I hoped they would take an extremely long time. Luckily, they did, but when they had purchased their meat, I could feel the adrenaline rush in my body.

"Good afternoon," Signor Versagio said, smiling. "You come to buy some of my meat?"

"As a matter a fact, yes… yes I have," I lied. I felt _really_ bad. "How much would a string of sausage links cost?"

"We are out of sausage links ever since Festival of Fools yesterday," Versagio replied. "Can I interest you in anything else, by any chance?"

"Uh…" I mumbled nervously. Behind Signor Versagio, I saw that Marcel had already slipped in from the back door, and was quickly trying to hack free a hunk of ham, dangling from the ceiling. "Uh…" I repeated. "Do you have any ham?"

"But of course," Versagio said smiling. He began to turn around to get the ham.

"Stop!" I cried, before he completely turned around and saw Marcel stealing from his store.

"What?" Versagio asked, confused.

"Uh…uh…LOOK! A bird!!!" I said desperately.

Versagio was raising his eyebrows now. "So?"

"I thought I saw a flamingo!"

Signor Versagio began to laugh at that. "Flamingo? In Paris. Ah, you make me laugh, young Julian. There are no flamingoes in Paris."

"Yah, probably not," I said, pretending to laugh along with him.

Behind Signor, Marcel was making the cutting motion on his throat with his hand. That meant he had stolen the meat and we had to get out of there.

"Uh, anyway," I said awkwardly, "I just remembered that I don't have any money. Sorry, I guess I'll have to come back another time."

"Oh, that's ok," Versagio said, still laughing about the flamingo. "I give you some ham for free."

"What? You…you would do that?" I asked.

"Why not? It's the holidays. It's a time to give. This is gift from me to you and your friends." He went to the back of his shop to get the ham. "Hmmm…" he mumbled to himself. "I was certain I had a fresh ham back here. I guess not. Well, do you like fresh salami?"

"Wow, thanks," I said slowly. Now I felt _really_ bad. We had gone as far as stealing when the whole time we could have just asked. "I guess…I guess I'll be back soon Signor. Enjoy the rest of your day."

Signor Versagio just smiled.

"So, how'd it go?" Marcel asked when I had met him around the corner.

"I feel terrible," I answered.

"Come on, it's not _that_ bad. We only took a little bit, and besides, the butcher gave you some meat for free.

"That's why I feel even _worse_," I retorted. "If he had any idea what we were_ really_ doing, he would_ never_ have given us the free food. We were taking advantage of him."

"That's kind of the point of _stealing_," Marcel assured me.

"That doesn't make it right," I replied.

"Don't worry, I felt bad the first time I stole too, but you get over it, eventually. Like I said, there's a first time for everything."

That night, we returned to the Court of Miracles with a huge load of fish…_and_ fresh ham and salami.

"This is good," Jasmine agreed. "Better than moldy apples and stale bread any day."

"Hey, has anyone seen Esmeralda?" I asked while chewing on a juicy piece of salami.

As if on cue, Esmeralda suddenly showed up with Djali.

"Where have you been?" I asked her when she came down and sat with us. I handed her a piece of salami.

"No thanks," she said, pushing the meat away. "I went to go see Quasimodo today."

"I thought you said he was super ugly," Marcel remarked.

"Well, there is more to life than looks," Esmeralda retorted. "And he really isn't all that bad looking once you get to know him. He's actually very kind and giving. He gave me this…"

Esmeralda pulled a wooden figure out of the folds of her long skirt. It was a carving of her and her goat. "I just wish I could do something about the way Frollo treats him. Quasimodo is a human being, not an animal, yet Frollo treats him like a dog. It just isn't right. The poor bell ringer deserves more credit than he is given. _Far _more."

I nodded. The more I was getting to know Esmeralda, the more I liked her. She was kind and compassionate, and clearly looked beyond Quasimodo's looks, to what was in his heart.

"By the way, where did you get all this food?" Esmeralda asked us.

"We caught the fish," I replied.

"Yah," Marcel added. "Julian taught me how to fish. And we stole the ham from the butcher shop. It was Julian's first time."

"Do you really think that was a good idea?" Esmeralda asked. "Stealing? What would happen if Signor Versagio caught you in the act? I don't get you Marcel. You think that just because we're in the Court of Miracles, it's ok to steal. It's not. It's not what we do. And how are we ever going to break the stereotypes about us being thieves if you prove that they are right? Don't steal, ok? It's like Clopin said last night. Stealing is just one other thing for Claude Frollo to get us in trouble for."

"Fine," Marcel muttered.

I was glad to know that Esmeralda agreed with me.


	11. Two Winters Later

**Chapter X. **

**Two Winters Later**

And so, time rolled slowly along. Two years to be specific. During that long period of time, my siblings and I quickly settled into life in Paris. There was a certain pattern to our lives in that city. Every morning, we were awakened by Notre Dame's loud bells, rung by Quasimodo of course. The day would pass slowly as we danced, sang and played music in the street, usually for only enough money to buy a single loaf of bread for dinner. Then the bells of the great cathedral would ring again in the afternoon, and the eerie chanting of the monks would fill the starry nights. It was a relatively difficult, but peaceful life, and I was content.

Before we knew it, the two years had passed, and it was the Festival of Fools once again. The excitement and festivities of the Festival of Fools never grew old, and of course, we gorged ourselves silly. I was now sixteen. In all honesty I hadn't changed much at all. Maybe I was a bit wiser, a bit more aware of the world around me, but nothing very huge. No one else had changed either. Heidi had grown up, but was still scared of big animals, Jasmine was still quiet and submissive, though intelligent, Marcel was still mischievous and clever, and Henri was still a follower. Esmeralda hadn't changed either. She was still the beautiful, caring gypsy girl she had always been. If anyone had changed at all, it was Ramus and Anisa. They had finally fallen in love with each other for real, and were expecting a baby in a few months.

That night after the festivities, Marcel and I slowly trudged home to the Court of Miracles, wandering slowly through the Parisian alleys. It was a typical carnival night: the candles in every window were lit, and people like us were slowly returning to their abodes, clad in masks, feathers and colorful carnival costumes.

"This is the only day of the year I live for," Marcel said sighing. "Complete paradise for twenty four hours. Plenty of food, plenty of games, everything is topsy turvy."

"It _is_ nice," I agreed. "But you don't live for it, do you? The rest of the year isn't_ so_ bad."

Marcel sighed. "I just wish life was like this more often, you know? I guess I wish that we weren't on the bottom of the cursus honorum."

"Cursus honorum?" I asked, "what's that?"

"The Ladder of Honor," Marcel replied. "It's Latin, you know, from Rome. It means we are on the very bottom of the social classes in Paris. I mean, it's not a _bad_ life, but no one else seems to like us very much. There are exceptions, but most of the city views us, and all the other gypsies as vermin."

I sighed. "You know, I think you're upset about Monique."

Monique was another girl that Marcel had recently fallen in love with. Unfortunately, when she had found out that Marcel was in the Court of Miracles, her father had prohibited them from seeing each other.

"No…I AM not!" Marcel grumbled. "Ok, maybe a little, but I have a right to be. Life just isn't fair."

"No kidding."

After a little while, we reached the catacombs. Even _they_ were lit up to celebrate the festivities.

"How was the carnival?" Anisa asked as we entered our sleeping quarters. She was strumming on a small wooden mandolin.

"Where's Ramus?" I asked. "Shouldn't he be with you?"

"He went outside to get some fresh air," Anisa replied. She jolted suddenly.

"What was _that_?"

"It was the baby," Anisa replied. "It just kicked."

"Are you nervous?" Marcel asked slowly. _Lots of mothers died giving birth._

"A little," Anisa admitted. "But I'm sure that the baby will be strong. It gets that from both parents."

By now, most of the other gypsies had returned from the night's festivities. Ramus was among them.

"How are you doing my love?" he asked Anisa as he walked over to us. "I just had to get out and stretch a little."

"I'm doing fine," Anisa answered. "Although it _would_ be nice to get outside as well. It's too bad we had to miss the Festival of Fools tonight."

"It will still be around next year," Ramus replied, kissing Anisa's forhead. She returned the kiss, and the two of them begin to make love to each other.

"I think that's our cue to leave and give them privacy," I whispered. Marcel nodded, and we left the chamber to meet everyone else. Jasmine and Heidi had returned and Henri was there too.

"Did you enjoy the day?" I asked them. They all nodded, but I couldn't hear what they said, because a loud ruckus was beginning to develop among the other gypsies.

"What's going on?" I asked. Marcel just shrugged, and Jasmine, Heidi and Henri weren't helpful either. Then I saw what it was.

A man, probably the same age as Ramus and Anisa was being hauled in by two large, muscular gypsies. He was pleading to them to let him go, but they didn't notice. They were dragging him to the island where we had all our meetings.

"Clopin, sir, we have brought before you a trespasser."

"Oh? Do we now?" Clopin asked, with a amused sneer in his voice. It reminded me of how he had treated Ramus, Jasmine, and Heidi and I when we had first entered the Court of Miracles. It was the way he acted when he wanted to see bloodshed.

"Please sir," the man was begging, "I'm no trespasser. I came here completely by mistake. I had no intention of breaking in."

"I find that hard to believe, due to the fact that our little hideout is underground in a catacomb. People don't just accidently make the mistake of walking into a catacomb. Do they?"

"Please sir-"

"Silence!" Clopin yelled at him. "You have only two choices. Become one of us, or be killed."

"But!-"

"No buts! Those are the rules. If you hadn't been snooping around the wrong parts of Paris, you wouldn't have gotten yourself into this mess, now would you? Am I right? I said, AM I RIGHT?"

"Yes, yes you're right," the man stuttered. He was obviously completely shaken with fear.

"Now, what is your decision going to be?" Clopin asked.

"I guess I only have one choice," the man answered. "I'll join you people."

"Ok, that's very nice, now who exactly are you?"

"My name is Pierre Gringoire. I am a play write, and a poet."

"Well, _Pierre_," Clopin replied in a mock tone, "you first must prove to us that you will be useful to the Court of Miracles."

"How will I do that?" Pierre Gringoire asked.

Clopin snapped his fingers. The same two muscular men pushed out a cart with a dummy on it. It was the same dummy that Ramus had had to use to retrieve the money. It jingled menacingly. "_This _is how."

Pierre gulped. "What do I do exactly?"

Clopin laughed. "It's simple. Somewhere in this dummy's clothes is a satchel filled with money. Your task is to retrieve it without ringing a single bell. If we hear one single jingle, then we slit your throat and we're done. Also, you have to stand on one foot while you do it"

"That's impossible!" Gringoire gasped.

"Would you rather we slit your throat right now?"

"Fine, I'll do it," Pierre Gringoire replied, clenching his teeth.

_This was turning out to be a reenactment of the first day we had met the gypsies. It was the same thing happening all over again. I felt bad for the poor man, because I knew exactly what fear was running through his head._

Slowly, Pierre raised one foot, swinging a bit uneasily. But the minute he reached for the dummy, the one leg he was standing on gave way and he went crashing forward into the dummy which exploded with a symphony of ringing and jingling. Poor guy, he had failed the test.

"Well, that's it, isn't it?" Clopin said smirking, "don't feel _too_ bad, at least you'll be in a better place."

"Clopin, I believe you're forgetting something, aren't you?" someone shouted out.

"And what is that?" Clopin asked. He took a few moments to think about it and sighed. "Why is it that I _always_ forget that one _other_ rule? Is there anyone who will marry _Pierre Gringoire_?"

At first no one answered, _just like with Ramus_, but then a voice spoke up. "I'll marry him."

To my utter surprise and shock, it was Esmeralda!

"I'll marry him," she repeated.

"Yes, I heard you the first time Esmeralda, but are you completely sure?" Clopin asked. Just like before, it seemed as though he would rather hang this man for sport, than marry him off to one of the girls in the Court of Miracles.

"I'm completely sure. If no one else will take him, then I can't just let him die, can I?"

"Why did you have to be so pure hearted?" Clopin asked in a winy voice. "Very well. Somebody grab a jug."

An old gypsy woman handed him a tall water vase, like the kind that the women in India and Africa balance on their heads.

With little enthusiasm, Clopin ran through the simple gypsy vows. Both Esmeralda and Pierre said "I do" and the vase was broken. Esmeralda was now married. And I was painfully jealous.

* * *

**_Note: To all of you who have only watched the movie, this is an actual scene in the book. So don't give me credit for Pierre Gringoire, because that was all Victor Hugo. This was actually how I got the idea for Anisa and Ramus's wedding in the first place. Hope you enjoyed! Please review! Special thanks so far to Opaque Opal and disneyqueen for reviewing and giving me tips on how to make this story better. Rock on you guys!!! Sincerely, Rainforest Treefrog. _**


	12. The Sun God Soldier

**Chapter XI.**

** The Sun God Soldier**

"I can't believe Esmeralda married that…that weird man!" I ranted to Marcel as the wedding closed and we returned to our sleeping chambers.

"Well, that's exactly what my sister did to your brother," Marcel reminded me, "which by the way, is what saved all your sorry tails."

I sighed. Marcel was right. He was often right. Despite his mischievous character, there was a deep ocean of wisdom lurking in Marcel. It was just really deep down, and many people including myself were often just too lazy to look for it.

"I know why you're mad," Marcel said. "It's because you still love Esmeralda. My advice: get over her and move on. If you think about it, you never had a chance with her anyway. And besides, it's not like she won't be your friend anymore. Just don't expect too much."

I sighed again. "Why do strange things always happen on the Festival of Fools?"

Marcel shrugged. "I guess that's just the way things are."

I shrugged. I didn't want to admit that what Marcel was saying was true, because I didn't want to seem like a weakly little love dove. I would get over it. There was bound to be a girl that I would eventually fall in love with in this city. Then again, Marcel did have more experience in these sort of things than I did, so perhaps he did no something about what he was talking about. Why was life so complicated?

The next day was just like any, and every day after the Festival of Fools always seemed to be that way. It was the rude awakening of what had once been there was no longer. You know, it's like when you have a beautiful dream and wake up to the real world and realize that it was all an illusion. The reality for all of us was that the parties and festivities were over, the good food was gone, and we were back to being gypsies, the drudges of humanity as the Archdeacon Claude Frollo so often referred to us as.

It was an unusually warm day that day however, especially for December in France. All the birds were out singing, and even the alley cats and street dogs came out to bask in the sun. The sun baked a Golden brown glow on Notre Dame, which usually appeared to be a stone gray color on cloudy days. Either way, the cathedral always towered majestically over the city.

Marcel and Henri and I were lazily strumming Spanish guitars and clacking castanets together as Jasmine, Heidi, Esmeralda and several other gypsy girls danced while tapping on tambourines. Normally, Anisa would be there as well, but being pregnant as she was prevented her from that type of physical work.

Everyone so often people would drop a few gold coins in the hat that Esmeralda had set on the cobblestones and Djali would chase off anyone who tried to take it. Wolfen snoozed in the sun by our feet. Everyone just felt tired and lazy, and so did all the other people it seemed.

Suddenly the sound of clopping hooves on cobblestones was heard around the corner of the street. There were often small donkeys and horses pulling carts for farmers, but this sounded like more than one horse, it seemed like quite a lot actually.

"What is it?" Heidi asked sleepily, though I could tell that the horses had caught her attention.

To answer her question, a large group of men carrying swords and shields and heavily clad in armor riding steeds appeared around the corner. Soldiers! Immediately I heard the sighs of Jasmine and all the other gypsy girls as they slowly clopped past us. Even Esmeralda, who was recently married sighed. I just rolled my eyes.

"Good day ladies," one of the soldiers said to them all as he took off his helmit and nodded to Esmeralda and Jasmine. "Bonjour!" he said as he demounted his horse and kissed Esmeralda on the finger. She giggled nervously. Then he turned to us to be polite and said "Greetings to you too," acknowledging Marcel and Henri and I were there with the guitars. Then he turned his attention back to the girls. He had blond hair like straw, and blue eyes. Jasmine and Esmeralda both giggled in a strangely annoyingly flirty way. I exchanged a glance with Marcel and we both rolled our eyes. I didn't understand what was so great about soldiers. Then again, I wasn't a girl.

"So, what may I ask are such lovely ladies as yourselves doing on such a fine day?" he asked.

I couldn't believe the way he was talking to them. It was disgusting. He sounded like an oily eel.

"What is a man of your status doing talking to gypsies such as ourselves," Esmeralda asked. "After all, we are the drudges of society."

"Oh, pish posh," the soldier said smiling. "That Archdeacon of ours has been messing with the people's heads again. I'll have a word with him about that."

Esmeralda giggled at that. I had never seen her so giddy. I was used to her being calm and composed, but now she was acting like a jellyfish washed up on the beach. So was Jasmine.

"What may I ask is your name, soldier?" Esmeralda asked the man.

The soldier paused, as if he wasn't accustomed to being asked such a question, by a gypsy or not. Then he answered, "my name is Phoebus. It means…uh…you're going to get a kick out of this, it means…Sun God."

Esmeralda burst out laughing. "Sun God? I love it!"

Phoebus smiled. "And who may ask, are you?"

"Esmeralda," Esmeralda replied, smiling.

"Esmeralda?" Phoebus repeated. "It's beautiful. What language is it?"

Esmeralda shrugged. "I've been told it's Egyptian, but I'm from Spain, so who knows."

"Well, Esmeralda, I have a feeling that we'll be seeing each other very soon," Phoebus said. "Good to meet you, and goodbye for now." With that, he gathered up his men, and they galloped away down the street.

"Phoebus," Esmeralda said sighing. "Phoebus, Phoebus, Phoebus," she repeated the name to herself. "What I would do for a man like that."

I couldn't believe it! I was rolling my eyes even harder now.

"Esmeralda, you can't possibly fall in love with that slob, you're already married," I reminded her.

Esmeralda just glanced over in my direction and gave me a strange look I'd never seen before. It was a mix of a withering glare, and a look that I was hopeless.

"The man I'm married to is a slob," she retorted. "And Phoebus is a gentleman."

"Oh yes he is," all the other girls including Jasmine and Heidi agreed.

"Ok, whatever, I guess I know nothing," I mumbled to myself as we gathered up the guitars and tambourines and headed back to the Court of Miracles.

"Don't take it too hard," Marcel told me as we walked past. "Esmeralda has far too much class to ever cheat on her husband, even if she doesn't particularly love him all that much. And think of what Claude Frollo would do if he caught Esmeralda committing adultery. It wouldn't be pretty."

"Speak of the devil," I whispered as we were walking. Sure enough, the archdeacon of Paris was walking towards us right now. He made it evident that he didn't want to touch us, by the way he took a long path to walk around us. He gave his little signature sniff of contempt as he walked past, but I noticed that there was an unusual gleam in his cold beady eyes.

"Marcel, look," I whispered, nudging him in the ribs.

"What?"

"Look!"

Frollo's eyes were glued to Esmeralda.

"Oh, no, you're not thinking," Marcel began.

"That's exactly what I'm thinking," I replied. "Look at him!"

It was obvious that the archdeacon was lusting over Esmeralda.

"But that can't even be possible!" Marcel objected. "Clergy members are forbidden to have any sort of romantic ties with anybody. They give an oath of chastity when they are sworn in."

"_Damn _chastity!" I almost shouted. "It's completely obvious! Didn't you see the way he was looking at her!?"

"All I'm saying," Marcel replied, "is that we shouldn't jump to any sort of conclusions."

"You say that now," I muttered.

"Do you even think for a minute that Esmeralda would ever have anything to do with that creepy man?" Marcel asked.

"I'm not worried about that," I assured him. "I'm worried about what Frollo might do to get what he wants. He has unbelievable power. Just think about what he can do! It's rather scary if you think about it."

"Forget it," Marcel interrupted me. "It's impossible. There's no way that what you think is going to happen is going to happen. Ok, it just won't"

I sighed. But I couldn't force Frollo's creepy look out of my mind. I knew that Esmeralda was a strong individual and that I probably had no business worrying about these things, but I just couldn't help the horrible feeling I had in my mind. Something bad was just waiting to happen and Frollo and Phoebus were part of it.

* * *

**_ I hope you enjoyed. If you are confused about why Phoebus seems so out of check, it's because I'm basing this story more off the book than the movie and in the book, Phoebus isn't such a great dude. Most of the interactions from here out between Esmeralda, Phoebus and Frollo are actually in the book, but trust me that this story is going somewhere and it will eventually tie in with the prologue. Once again thanks to Opaque Opal and disneyqueen and please review! _**


	13. A Dangerous Rendezvous

**Chapter XII. **

**A Dangerous Rendezvous **

"Phoebus, Phoebus, Phoebus," Esmeralda kept repeating as we all walked together back to the Court of Miracles. All the other gypsy girls giggled along with her.

I couldn't believe it. It seemed as though every man in the city wanted something to do with Esmeralda, including myself, and Esmeralda was falling for one of them, even though she was recently married to Pierre. I didn't know Pierre all that well, after all he had only been living with us for a day now, but I felt bad for him. At least when Ramus and Anisa had been married, Anisa hadn't flirted with other men.

"So, what _are_ you going to do about Pierre?" I asked Esmeralda as we walked along.

"Do you _have_ to keep reminding me about him?" she asked.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to prevent you from doing anything that you shouldn't," I muttered. "You know, like cheating on him or something."

"What kind of a person do you take me for?" Esmeralda asked.

I sighed. "Ok, just forget it," I muttered.

As we continued along I couldn't shake off that creepy feeling about Claude Frollo. Being a priest meant that he couldn't be involved with _any_ girl, much less Esmeralda, but he _was _human, so what would he do if instinct took over? I was about to tell everyone else what Marcel and I had noticed about him, but then I decided that it would only irritate Esmeralda further. I could already tell that she was slightly annoyed by the way I was reacting to her conversation with Phoebus.

"Look," Marcel suggested, "just ignore Esmeralda's love life. It's far more complicated than you need to get involved in. And don't worry, Esmeralda's a smart person, she'll know what to do. Just don't get involved, it'll just make things worse, and more complicated for yourself.

I sighed. Once again, Marcel's annoyingly accurate logic was taking over. But I decided to take his advice.

Later that night, we were all lying around in the sleeping chambers in the Court of Miracles.

"Julian, could you hand me a cup of water?" Anisa asked from her bed. "Ramus went to get us some dinner, but I'm very thirsty."

"No problem," I replied. I was glad I could help her out, because as Anisa's pregnancy wore on, simple tasks became more and more difficult for her, and since Ramus's hands were often full doing things for her, help from the rest of us was often appreciated.

I took the wooden cup from her and headed to the "fountain" that all the gypsies used. It was really a drip pipe that leaked from the city's main water system, but the water was clean, and that was all that mattered.

But as I filled up the cup, a flash of something scurried across my peripheral vision. I looked just in time to see a hooded figure disappear behind a corner, toward the Court of Miracle's entrance. It seemed strangely suspicious.

"Jasmine," I called, "can you give this to Anisa? I have to go check something out really quick."

Anisa nodded and took the cup back to the chamber to give to Anisa.

"Thanks."

I then raced over to the corner to where I had seen the figure disappear. I had a strong feeling that I knew exactly who it was. It was dark, and I couldn't see anything, but the faint sounds of splashing told me exactly what I needed to know.

I followed the sound of the splashing down the tunnel, and eventually it led out of the catacombs, in the cemetery near the river.

It was a moonlit night, I realized as I stepped outside, and in the distance, the purple glow of Notre Dame's rose windows was beaming. I could hear the faint singing of the monks, which was customary every evening.

"Where did she go?" I asked myself. I was fairly sure that it was Esmeralda under the hood and cape. It was dark, but I finally noticed the figure running away from the cemetery, towards the riverbank. As quietly as I could, so as to not be caught following her, I ran after her in hot pursuit.

The hooded figure who I suspected to be Esmeralda raced across the bridge leading onto the ile de la cite, the island in the middle of the Seine that Notre Dame was located on. Why was she going _there_?

I followed her across the island, but she ran right past the cathedral. Obviously Notre Dame wasn't her destination.

Eventually, she led me past the entire island and onto the other side. From there, she exited on another bridge, leading to the other side of the river. I tried to keep silent even though the puddles of water splashed under my feet.

Finally, after leaving the island and following her down several alleys and through a large plaza, she came to a stop at a small dusky tavern. I waited outside for a few moments, peeping in through the window. Most of the people had already left, and I saw that the she was creeping up the stairs to the upper floor above where everyone drank and ate.

Quietly, I slipped inside. The man who owned the tavern wasn't there, which was probably just as well, and I slowly walked up the stairs. I winced every time the steps creaked under my feet. I knew that I shouldn't be following Esmeralda and that if she found out that I was following her, she would be upset.

The staircase led up to a small hallway with three doors that led into different rooms. I assumed that the tavern owner lived up here, so what was Esmeralda doing? That's when I heard the voices coming from the wall.

"I didn't think you'd come," said a male voice. It sounded familiar, _very_ familiar.

"I didn't think I'd come either," a second voice answered. It was defiantly female, and defiantly Esmeralda. I had been correct about that the whole time. But what was she doing here with another man when she already had a husband back at the Court of Miracles? Something wasn't adding up here.

Slowly, I tiptoed over to the door of the room that the two of them were in. The door was cracked ever so slightly, and I peeked through. There was Esmeralda, with…PHOEBUS! I couldn't believe it!

_What are you doing Esmeralda!?_ I wanted to shout out, but I couldn't say anything, or I'd get into trouble.

The two of them were sitting on the window sill in the room, that overlooked the street below. A shaft of moonlight was flooding into the room, casting bluish white glows on both of them, and making Esmeralda's olive skin a strange turquoise color.

"You look awfully beautiful tonight," Phoebus was saying to her. "Almost as beautiful as you looked dancing in the street this afternoon when I met you."

Esmeralda giggled in a nervous way. "Thank you."

It was disgusting!

It was like a moray eel luring a little fish into the dark cave so it could eat it. Phoebus was the eel, and Esmeralda was the tiny little fish. I wanted to jump in and stop the mess that was just waiting to happen.

Phoebus began to hold Esmeralda closely and kissed her lightly on the forehead, and then on the face, working his way around to her mouth. Esmeralda welcomed it by wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"Oh, Phoebus," she sighed. "If only we could get married. I'd be so happy. But unfortunately I've been forced into marrying a man I don't even know. I did it only to save his life, but it's _you_ who I love."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at this.

Phoebus just sighed.

"Do_ you_ wish we could get married?" Esmeralda asked him.

"What?" Phoebus asked.

"Do you wish we could get married?"

Phoebus paused as if he didn't know what to say, but then answered, "of course not. I'm married. And I love my wife very much. This was just for fun, because you're such a beautiful woman."

"What?" Esmeralda asked, confused. "You mean…oh. Well, in that case, I'd best be on my way."

"Wait, don't just leave like that," Phoebus objected.

Suddenly, I heard a voice from downstairs in the tavern. It was _also_ strangely familiar. It sounded just like…the Archdeacon Claude Frollo! Oh no!

"Did you see a gypsy girl come here?" he asked the tavern owner below, who had apparently shown up.

"If you mean a girl with dark hair wearing a long cloak and hood, then yes," the tavern owner replied. "She went upstairs to meet with one of the soldiers."

"Thank you," Frollo replied.

I could hear him now, slowly walking up the stairs. What was he going to do? Whatever it was, it was best that he didn't see me here. Desperately, I searched for a place to hide. There was nothing, except the closet, so I stuffed myself inside and shut the door.

Frollo's footsteps slowly plodded along closer and closer as he approached. Suddenly I heard a pause. All was quiet, except for the mumblings from Esmeralda and Phoebus inside, which I could no longer hear since I wasn't pressed up against the door to their room.

Then, suddenly without warning I heard the door to their room fling open and Esmeralda screamed the most bloodcurdling scream I had _ever_ heard. Several thuds were heard, and then the rush of footsteps racing down the staircase again.

I waited for a few minutes, sweat pulsing down my forehead and I could hear my heart beating. Then I slowly opened the closet door and approached the room. When I opened the door, I saw the most horrifying scene I'd seen since the night in Istanbul when the Crusaders burned the city to the ground.

On the ground, lay Phoebus, with a knife plunged deep into his back. Esmeralda was there, tears streaming down her face as she desperately tried to pry the knife out of him.

"What happened!?" I cried, horrified. Blood was oozing out thickly from his back onto the wooden floor of the room.

"What are you doing here!?" Esmeralda shrieked. "Never mind, you've got to help me."

"Again, what happened," I repeated my question.

"I was in here with Phoebus, when a horrible man wearing a mask and hood burst in and stabbed him. Then, he fled the room."

I barely had a chance to respond before more footsteps were heard stomping up the stairs towards the room. Two large men wearing armor and carrying swords stormed in.

"You, gypsy girl," one of them said pointing to Esmeralda desperately trying to pry the knife from Phoebus's body.

From a different stand point, it almost as though she had done the murder herself.

"You, are under arrest for murder of a soldier."


	14. Hope Of Sanctuary

**Chapter XIII. **

**Hope Of Sanctuary**

"Did you not hear me, gypsy girl?" the soldier asked. "I said, you are under arrest for the murder of a soldier, the man you are standing over, with the knife in his back."

Esmeralda was too stunned to speak. Her eyes were red, and tears were streaming down her face, leaving pink rings around her eyes. Her olive skin had become blotched with white patches, probably from nervousness.

I wasn't any better. I was frozen in fear, for Esmeralda, and for myself. What was going to become of _me_? I was here too, I was a witness of the crime.

"You realize that you have committed a crime punishable by death, don't you?" the soldier asked.

Still no answer from Esmeralda.

"I DEMAND that you answer me when I speak to you!" the soldier suddenly roared. "You killed Phoebus, did you not?"

"I…I…no, I didn't!" Esmeralda panted. "It was somebody…somebody else, in a dark cloak with a hood. I couldn't see who exactly."

The soldier laughed harshly. "Sounds like you're lying. The evidence is right here. The knife is plunged into his back, there's blood on your hands, what else am I supposed to think of this?"

"She didn't do it," I muttered quietly.

"What's that boy?" the soldier said angrily, turning to face me. "You keep your mouth shut if you know what's good for you. What are you doing here?"

I didn't answer. I didn't know what to say.

"Well then," said the soldier. "If neither of you will answer the simple questions I ask you, maybe you'll answer to the whip. We're taking you to the Palace of Justice."

"NO!!! Please monsieur!" Esmeralda cried. "I didn't kill this man. I swear that what I tell you is the truth."

The Palace of Justice was a terrible place where criminals were taken to be beaten and tortured. The torture was so extreme, that many prisoners often died grizzly deaths in the dark shadows of the prison.

"You can't do that!" I cried. "We have the right to a fair trial same as you do."

The soldier laughed harshly. "You're gypsies. Do you think that the court will look past your tambourines and tattered clothing? You're nothing! The death of a gypsy or two doesn't mean anything to the court, or to Claude Frollo."

"That's who it was!" I cried. "It was Frollo who came in and stabbed Phoebus!"

Again with the harsh laughter. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that pathetic lie? What would Frollo gain by stabbing Phoebus? He's the archdeacon of Notre Dame. His position is too high to compromise. He would be the last man in all of Paris, or France for that matter to do anything like this."

The soldiers ushered us out of the room, leaving Phoebus's bloody body on the floor, the knife still impaled in his heart.

We were pushed outside into the street, and the night air seemed colder than I remembered on the way over while I was following Esmeralda. What mess had we gotten ourselves into? The soldier was right. We were gypsies. We were nothing, not in the eyes of the other Parisians that is.

A wooden carriage with bars over it was waiting.

"Enjoy your stay at the Palace," the soldier said to us, cynically. We had no other choice but to step inside the carriage. With that, the door was slammed behind us. The sound of imprisonment.

Neither of us said anything as the carriage clanked down the street toward the Palace of Justice. The only sound was that of clopping horse hooves and the cobblestones. What were we supposed to do? It was that strange feeling of knowing your fate, but not being able to completely accept what was happening. Almost like denial.

The carriage clacked on and on down the streets. In reality, it was probably less than twenty minutes, but when you are in that much fear, everything seems to be happening so quickly, and you don't know what to do except imagine all the terrible things that are about to happen to you. That's what I was thinking about now. I'd heard awful stories from Marcel about the torture mechanisms in the Palace of Justice. There were wheels with spikes on them, and they were used to grind people up. And whips with shards of glass and broken knife pieces attached to them. Basically, hell on earth.

And now it was about to happen to Esmeralda and I. The most invigorating part of it all was that we were both completely innocent. It was Frollo who had stabbed Phoebus, and I was the only person who knew. Worse still, I was the only one who ever _would_ know it, since nobody believed me.

I glanced over at Esmeralda. I had never seen a look of such defeat in her. Her eyes were hidden by the long, thick black hair that was hanging over her face. It was as if she were trying to shut out the cruel world, and everything in it.

Suddenly, a plan began to form inside my head.

"Esmeralda," I whispered, excited.

There was no answer at first, but slowly she raised her head and looked at me. Her blue/green eyes looked hopeless and depressed.

"Listen, I think I might have a plan," I told her.

Instantly, her face lit up a little bit. But then she paused. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

"It's simple," I told her. "As soon we get to the Palace of Justice and they open the doors of the carriage, we burst out of the doors so fast that the soldiers are left in shock for a few moments. Then, we run as fast as we can."

"That's your brilliant plan?" Esmeralda asked, slightly disappointed. "It's better than nothing, but I don't think that'll work. It's too…weak."

"Yah, you're right," I admitted, "but here's the catch. We run to Notre Dame. There, we can claim sanctuary, and nobody can do anything to us. Then, we can demand the right to a fair trial. The clergy there will have to give that to us. Except…ok great. I forgot. Frollo. That's going to be a major setback."

"No no no," Esmeralda said, "it's fine. That's a good plan. Forget about Frollo, he may be creepy, but he'll be fair."

I sighed to myself. Esmeralda had no idea. I still hadn't told her about the way Frollo had looked at her earlier in the day. I couldn't get the creepy image of his lust for her out of my head. And he hated gypsies with a passion, so what use would he be in helping us?

"All I'm saying is," I sighed, "we have to be careful around him. I'm not exactly sure what his intentions and motives are, or whether they or good or bad, but I'd be watchful around that man. He's just so…"

"Oh stop," Esmeralda interrupted. "I know where this is going."

"You do?" I asked.

"Of course," Esmeralda answered. "You think that Frollo is going to turn us in because he hates gypsies. Well, there's nothing he can do if we are inside the cathedral as you said, correct? I mean, whether it's Frollo or not, we have sanctuary at Notre Dame. Don't second guess your plan, Julian, it's more brilliant than you think, in more ways than one."

I had to admit that I liked being praised by Esmeralda. I so rarely got complimented or noticed for any of my accomplishments that when someone as sophisticated and well known in the Court of Miracles as Esmeralda said something nice to me it felt a hundred times better.

Finally, the sound of clanking wheels against the cobblestone streets came to a halt.

"We have arrived," Esmeralda whispered grimly.

"Remember what I told you," I whispered. "We're going to blitz out of here."

"I think I've got a better way to escape," Esmeralda answered.

"What?"

"You'll see."

I could hear the sound of footsteps now, clicking on the hard cold street.

"This is it," I whispered again. "I hope you have a good plan in mind, because if you don't…"

Esmeralda ignored the negativity of my tone. She just sat there staring intently out the metal bars of the back door of the prison carriage…Finally the moment came when a soldier opened up the door to the carriage.

That's when things began to happen so fast that to this day I'm not sure exactly what went down. What I do know is that Esmeralda jumped out and planted her foot in the soldier's jaw, kicking him to the ground, where he lay, blood dripping out of his mouth, and his nostrils.

"Come on," she yelled over to me. "We've got no time to waste."

It didn't take me a second thought to burst out the prison carriage after it. I thanked the heavens for how lucky I was as I followed Esmeralda's graceful stride down the alleys and through Paris towards Notre Dame.

* * *

**_Hey everybody! Sorry it's been so long. I've been so busy. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. More still to come. _**


	15. The Fate Of Fugitives

**Chapter XIV **

**The Fate Of Fugitives**

We ran as fast as we could over the cold cobblestones of the Parisian streets. Under normal conditions, I would already have been vomiting from sheer exhaustion, because I didn't normally run this far at such a fast pace. But it is amazing what adrenaline does to you, because I was barely a few steps behind Esmeralda. I could hear the gentle sound of our bare feet splashing in the small puddles here and there. It had rained several hours earlier.

"Are they catching up to us yet?" Esmeralda asked, turning her head to look behind us.

We both stopped for a few moments to catch our breath, and to see what was going on. It seemed as though we had lost our pursuers. But then, the distant sound of clopping horse hooves, and the light from the carriage lanterns came.

"Keep going!" Esmeralda cried, breaking once more into a sprint. I didn't have to listen twice!

We continued to run, but as fast as we went, it seemed as though the cathedral was still as far away as ever. We hadn't even reached the island yet. Finally, the luminescent purple glow of Notre Dame's rose windows was seen in the distance.

"Keep going!" I urged Esmeralda, even though she was still several paces ahead of me and probably didn't need the advice. She knew even more than I did, what danger we were in if we didn't make it to the cathedral before we were caught.

Suddenly, my foot caught onto a small sharp object on the ground and I fell flat on my face. My foot throbbed with sudden pain, and when I looked down at it, I saw that a stream of blood was already pouring out of the wound. I had stepped on an old rusty fishing knife.

"Get up, or they'll catch us!" Esmeralda shrieked in panic.

"My foot!" I wailed. "What's this stupid knife doing in the middle of the street anyway, don't people know better than to leave sharp objects in way?"

"Well, we _are_ near the river, perhaps it was one of the fishermen's. But look, we don't have time to worry about that now, you've got to get up. Listen! I can already hear that they're gaining on us, and we haven't even reached the island yet!"

I knew that Esmeralda was right, and I felt ashamed for making such a big deal about the whole thing. But my foot was literally gushing out blood! If I didn't get it treated soon enough, I could die of blood loss or infection!

"Come on, get up!" Esmeralda urged as she grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to my feet. I could feel all the blood in my legs rushing to the wound in my foot, draining my body of the red liquid.

"It hurts so bad!" I moaned. Esmeralda tried to ignore this, and set off running again. But when I tried to follow after her, I collapsed to the floor! I couldn't walk! My foot was in that much pain!

Stumbling, I tried to push myself upright and dragged myself along. By now I could hear the neighing of the horses as the soldiers approached in hot pursuit.

_This is it. Our plan's failed and Esmeralda and I are going to be sent to the palace of justice, all because of this damn fishing knife!_

The panic in my mind turned to rage. Rage that everything had gone wrong, rage that Esmeralda had been framed for murdering Phoebus, rage that we weren't going to make it to the sanctuary in Notre Dame.

Speaking of which, where was Esmeralda? Had she already gotten so far ahead that I could no longer see her? No, she wouldn't have abandoned me…would she have? And then suddenly, I felt two hands grab my shoulders. I jolted from surprise, but then realized that they weren't the big steel grip hands of the soldiers; these ones were gentle, and though they were strong, they weren't rough.

I turned to see that it was Esmeralda! She grabbed me in her arms and began to run. I was surprised! She was much stronger than I would have ever suspected, after all, she was running while at the same time, holding me!

And just in the nick of time. The soldiers on their horses were gaining on us ever more than before. Finally, we turned around a bend, across an avenue, and there was the island. Esmeralda raced over to the bridge. But by now, we could see the horses behind us.

"Ok, this is drastic, but desperate times call for desperate measures," Esmeralda said. "We're going to have to jump off the bridge."

"What!?"

Esmeralda didn't bother to respond, and before the idea had registered, I suddenly felt a strange sensation that I couldn't quite place. I soon realized it was the sensation of falling. Esmeralda had done it, jumped off the bridge. And suddenly the cold splash of water covered me as we hit the river.

For a few moments, I just lay there in the water, confused, panicked and strangely paralyzed. I couldn't do anything! Then the shock wore off and I realized I had to come up for air. I fought my way through the dark water up to the surface, gasping for air. I was so panicked that I temporarily forgot about the throbbing pain in my foot, though I could feel the blood draining out into the river water.

"Don't make any sounds," Esmeralda whispered. She was treading water a few arm lengths away from me. "And tread water like me instead of thrashing around like that. We don't want them to know we're down here."

I did as she said, and held my breath as the sound of horse hooves thundered above us from the bridge. Finally, after a few moments, all the soldiers and horses had passed.

"That was close," I breathed. "You saved us both."  
Esmeralda shrugged, or at least made an attempt to as she floated in the water. "What else was I supposed to do, leave you behind to be taken away?"

"All the same, I'm grateful for what you did."

"Well then, you're welcome." She smiled slightly.

After waiting for a few moments, to make sure that the coast was clear, we swam to the river bank, and climbed up onto the island. I could hear bells ringing nearby…Notre Dame! We'd almost made it there! Just a little longer.

Unfortunately, now that the adrenaline had begun to wear off, the pain in my foot began to return, and I began to limp.

Esmeralda looked at me pitifully, and sighed. "Look, I know it's probably embarrassing for you, but do you want me to carry you again? It's really no trouble."

I was about to say no, to keep my dignity but then thought the better of it.

"Sure," I replied quietly.

Finally, we arrived at the cathedral. The bell towers rose high above our heads, and the purple windows illuminated the gargoyles that jutted out of the stone architecture. Esmeralda put me down and walked over to one of the large wooden doors. There, she knocked.

After a few moments, a short fat man in a white robe, who was balding answered us. I assumed he must be one of the priests.

"Please help us," Esmeralda begged him. "My friend and I have come to claim sanctuary." She pointed to me, and indicated my wounded foot.

The priest eyed us both over and then nodded, as if he knew exactly what had happened. "Come with me."

We followed him inside the cathedral, and he closed the door behind us. I limped along as he led me and Esmeralda. I'd never actually been inside the cathedral until now, and it seemed more spectacular and enormous on the inside than on the outside! It felt as though we were in a giant palace of God. Then again, that was part of the point of cathedrals.

"Quasimodo sleeps up in the bell towers," the priest told us. "Would you two mind sharing a room with him?"

"Not at all," Esmeralda answered.

I nodded that I didn't mind either.

"Ok, then follow me this way," the priest said as he led us up a narrow winding staircase lit only by torches. Finally, we came to the top.

I was impressed. The bell towers were enormous! High above our heads were the gigantic bells, hanging by ropes attached to the wooden planks and rafters. I heard snoring and looked to see the shape of the hunchback sleeping on a bead of straw in the corner.

"He's practically deaf," the priest told us, "so he probably won't hear you. It's because he rings the bells every day and night you see, that his ear drums finally burst."

I nodded in sympathy. It must be awful to lose your hearing.

"Now, why exactly have you come here?" the priest asked us. "What is your need for sanctuary."

"I was framed for a murder," Esmeralda told him. "I didn't do it, but the soldiers didn't believe me, nor Julian here, so we came here until we can get a fair trial."

"Ah, well you'll be safe here," the priest told us.

"Yes," said a familiar voice. A voice that we had heard not too long ago either. Frollo!

"But should you take one step outside the cathedral, and you are at the mercy of the law. You see, Notre Dame may be a sanctuary, but it is also a prison. You can't leave or else you will be taken to the Palace of Justice. You've chosen a fine prison, but it is a prison none the less."

"Anyway," the priest muttered, "I'll come to see how you are doing in the morning."

With that, he left us alone, with Claude Frollo's glaring eyes staring at us from the shadows. "Remember, this is your prison for now. That is the fate of fugitives here." He gave a little laugh at that, one that was creepy and almost diabolical.

"Ignore him," Esmeralda suggested. "We'll think of something in the morning. For now, we have sanctuary and there's nothing anyone can do to us."

* * *

**_Well, hope you enjoyed! This chapter was fun to write because I tried to combine a little of the movie scene, but at the same time make it different. I hope you enjoyed this version. Anyways, please review and look for the next update! I'll try to update ASAP! Until then, au'voire. (not sure if that's spelled correctly) _**


	16. Escape From Notre Dame

**Chapter XV.**

** Escape From Notre Dame**

Several days passed in the cathedral. Slowly but surely, the wound in my foot from the fishing knife began to heal. The kind priest had brought healing herbs that I used. They tasted terrible, but got the job done. Esmeralda spent the time gazing out over the city from the top of the bell towers. She and Quasimodo would spend long hours conversing. I would join every so often.

The hunchback was surprisingly friendlier than I would have ever expected, and extremely gentle. He had names for every single gargoyle and bell in the cathedral, and he talked to them sometimes when he didn't realize that Esmeralda and I could hear him.

_It must get lonely up here with only Claude Frollo to talk to,_ I reasoned.

Speaking of which, it seemed as though we were always being watched by the creepy old man. He came every morning and evening to give Quasimodo his breakfast and supper, and to give him lessons on reading and writing. He rarely said anything to Esmeralda and I, but I could tell by the contemptuous glare that he was always giving us, that he had unbelievable hate for us.

Except that he only gave _me_ that glare. When Esmeralda wasn't looking, he would give her that same lustful look I had seen on the streets several days ago with Marcel.

Finally one night, Esmeralda and I talked about our situation.

"We can't stay here forever," I told her.

Esmeralda nodded in understanding. She knew perfectly well that there would come a point in time when we would be somehow forced out of the cathedral whether we like it or not. "We're safe here, but only for so long."

"Exactly. And think of Clopin, and your husband, and everyone else back at the Court of Miracles. None of them know what happened to us. For all they know, we could be dead, or have fled the country. We need to somehow let them know where we are."

"That means someone is going to have to send the message to them. And it can only be one of us. We don't want to send another unfortunate person to the Court of Miracles, only to find that he has to either marry someone or be put to death."

"Understood. Now, who do you think should go?"

"I'll go. You're foot is getting better, but it's not completely healed yet, so it would be better if I went."

"Yah, but you're the one everyone thinks committed the crime. You're more of a target than I am."

Esmeralda sighed. "You're right. I just wish that I'd never made the mistake of going to meet Phoebus. I knew it was wrong the entire time, especially since I'm married now. I wonder what poor Pierre is thinking right about now."

"It's ok," I coaxed. "We all make mistakes. This one just happens to be pretty big, that's all."

Esmeralda pushed me playfully. "Shut up," she laughed. "But seriously, if I hadn't decided to meet up with that dirty, dog-faced bastard, we wouldn't be in this mess."

I laughed. At least Esmeralda was over Phoebus.

"Maybe we should leave Paris," Esmeralda said after a few moments of silence.

"What? Leave Paris?"

Esmeralda nodded, and she looked as if she was gazing at a faraway place. "It's not safe for us in this city. Frollo hates us, and as long as he's around, there's going to be danger for every gypsy in Paris. Maybe we should return to Spain. Or even Marseilles."

"I don't think we need to worry about that just yet. After all, the decision is Clopin's anyway."

"The decision is going to come sooner than you think Julian. France is a beautiful place, but right now, I'm not sure how safe it is for us. At least in Spain, there are plenty of other gypsies, so we'll fit right in."

"I've never been to Spain. I don't speak Spanish either," I replied.

"I'd teach you. You learned French pretty quickly, Spanish will be a breeze."

I sighed. I didn't like moving. Moving was a change, and change was hard. Leaving Turkey had been hard enough for me and my siblings. Spain? That was a completely new place.

"Would you rather live in a place where we are scorned and looked down on?" Esmeralda asked.

"No, it's just…never mind. You're probably right. I just don't want change, that's all."

"I understand. But when you're a gypsy, you have to anticipate change at all times. That's part of being a gypsy, improvising your entire life. We can't always plan for things, we have to brace ourselves for what might happen and adapt."

It was some time later in that night, when I overheard a conversation between Claude Frollo, and a voice that I didn't recognize. It was oddly suspicious sounding.

"Gypsies don't do well inside stone walls," he was saying. "And sooner or later Esmeralda and her little urchin friend will have to leave the cathedral. And if it means that I have to take matters into my own hands, then so be it."

"What do you mean Claude?"

This man must be a pretty good friend of Frollo if he was addressing him by his first name.

"What I mean is simply this: The two gypsies are safe as long as they remain inside Notre Dame's sacred stone walls. But I don't intend to wait around like cat waiting for a mouse this way. And what do you do to catch a mouse? You use bait."

_Uh oh…_ I thought immediately._ Frollo's hatched a plan. I'd better warn Esmeralda. _

I quietly raced back up to the bell tower. It was late, and in the candlelight of the tower, I could make out the sleeping form of Quasimodo hanging in the rafters, and Esmeralda stretched out on the wooden floor, fast asleep. I didn't want to wake her up like this…but the current conversation I had overheard seemed urgent.

"Esmeralda," I whispered, shaking her gently. When she didn't awake, I shook a bit harder until finally her eyes slowly opened.

"What?" she asked, slightly annoyed that I had awaken her from her slumber.

"It's important, I promise."

"Ok, then spill the beans. What's going on?"

"I overheard a conversation between Frollo and some other man that I didn't recognize. I'm not sure who it was. But he was saying how he's going to make sure that we don't stay here and he's going to do anything he can to get us out of Notre Dame and strip us of our sanctuary. That way, we can be sentenced to death."

"That rat! I should of known he would be plotting against us this entire time."

"I think you're right. We can't stay here. I need to get out as soon as possible and get everyone else at the Court of Miracles to help," I replied.

"Are you sure you think you can go?"

"We've been over this before. You're the one who supposedly committed the crime, not me. You'd be in more danger than I would. Trust me, my foot's healed. It hurts a little, but I'll have to cope with that I guess. Just trust me on this, we have to get help. I'll go get it. I'm thinking maybe even tonight."

"Ok, but how are you going to get out of the cathedral without being spotted by Frollo's watchful eyes? Have you thought about that yet?"

I frowned. I confessed that I had not. _But there had to be some way to get out of here without getting caught, didn't there?_

"I can help with that," said a voice from up in the rafters. It was Quasimodo.

"Oh, Quasi, you don't have to get involved in this," Esmeralda assured him. "I don't want you getting in trouble with Frollo. He might hurt you."

"I'm not afraid of Frollo," the hunchback replied. "I want to help. You guys are my friends now."

Esmeralda sighed. "Very well. How can you help?"

"I know every square inch of this cathedral like the palm of my hand," Quasimodo replied. "There are plenty of escape routes. And I've become quite an acrobat over the years; I could help Julian to escape and get word to the Court of Miracles."

"That's very generous my friend," Esmeralda replied, "but…"

"No buts. I want to do this for you."

"Well I guess there's no stopping you so…do what you have to. Remember Julian, go straight to Clopin, and tell him that I'm in Notre Dame, and that I can't come out until I've had a fair trial."

"Got it." We exchanged a quick glance with each other and Quasimodo nudged me out to the balcony outside the bell tower.

"Now," he said, get on my back."

"What?"

"I'm serious. Get on my back. Hold on tight. And don't look down."

"Ok…" I mumbled awkwardly as I climbed onto the hunchback's hunched back.

Then suddenly without warning, he leaped off the balcony. It was so sudden that I didn't even have time to scream. And then suddenly, we were hanging along the side of the cathedral. Quasimodo had grabbed onto a gargoyle that was jutting out of the stone architecture. It's eyes seemed to stare at us.

"You all right?" Quasimodo asked.

"Uh…yah, sure…" I mumbled, feeling a little sick to my stomach.

"Ok, get ready again."

He let go of the gargoyle's neck and again we were free falling in the air…until the hunchback landed us on a ledge. From here, it was about ten feet from the ground. I looked up at the amazing height we had fallen from. The ledge towered high above us from where we had jumped, and I could see the small shape of Esmeralda, waving to me good luck.

"I'll have to leave you here," said Quasimodo. "Good luck, and be safe."

I thanked him, and watched as he climbed back up the cathedral walls, like a cat climbing a tree. You would never have expected that someone as clumsy looking as Quasimodo would be as agile as he was.

I sighed. The dark streets of Paris beckoned for me. I had escaped the cathedral, but now I had to return safely to the Court of Miracles and tell Clopin what had happened.


	17. A Silent Night In Paris

**Chapter XVI.**

** A Silent Night In Paris**

The sound of bells gently rang as I left the cathedral, and looking behind me, I could faintly make out Esmeralda high in the bell tower, waving to me. Soon Quasimodo emerged with her and he too waved.

"Ok, they're depending on me," I muttered to myself, and took a deep breath. "I can't make any mistakes about this."

I looked back at them and at Notre Dame one last time, before turning and deciding which would be the best, and safest way to get back to the Court of Miracles. I chose a empty street, that was dimly lit only by a few late night taverns. The sound of angry fights and smashing glass was heard as I walked past, and I shuddered. It was scary what alcohol did to people.

But leaving the tavern behind, it felt oddly silent. Not even the sound of soldiers on their late night patrols of the city was heard. _How strange,_ I thought. _It must be a holiday or something that I'm not aware of. _

By now I had reached one of the bridges that exited the island in the middle of the river. I paused and looked back. The cathedral was far behind me now, but I could still see it rising above the other buildings like a giant sea monster emerging out of the sea. Back in Turkey, our father had told us many stories of sailing out into the ocean, and confronting all sorts of horrid creatures that had tentacles, lots of eyes, and sharp teeth. The purple rose windows of Notre Dame behind me gave it the look of one of those creatures.

Walking across the bridge reminded of the night not long ago where I had stepped on the fishing knife when Esmeralda and I had tried desperately to get to the cathedral for sanctuary. I looked down at my bare feet. The wound had healed, but a large scar still showed, evidence that it had been a painfully large gash. What a story I would have to tell everyone back at the Court of Miracles.

Leaving the ile de la cite (the island in the city that Notre Dame is located on), I was again puzzled with the fact that there wasn't a single sound tonight. What was going on? It was as if someone was following me…

I looked behind me. No one. I sighed. That was good. Maybe I was just becoming a bit paranoid and needed to calm down. Yet as I continued down a long dark avenue, I felt as if eyes were watching me, and I could almost feel them radiating off the back of my head. It was very creepy.

"Is anybody there!?" I asked out loud once or twice. No answer. Hmmm….

It was that same feeling you get when you know that you've forgotten something, but you can't remember what. Except that this time I knew I was being followed, but by who?

Because I was beginning to panic, I picked up my pace a bit. The Court of Miracles was near now, I recognized this familiar part of town. If only I could shake off my pursuer; hah! I didn't even know if I was being followed.

Finally, the gateway to the catacombs was in sight. I sprinted ahead and quickly opened the door, shutting it behind me as fast as possible without slamming it. That would only draw attention.

I took a deep breath. The chase was over. That was of course, if there had been a chase at all in the first place. After living in the cathedral for so long with Esmeralda and fearing that Frollo was out to get us every minute of our waking lives, I had probably gone a little crazy.

_It was nothing,_ I thought to myself. _You were not being followed, you just had a mental breakdown. It's ok. _

Forgetting it had ever happened, I raced down the steps into the catacombs. As I sloshed through the shallow puddles of water here and there, I could hear the soft, distant sound of violins and mandolins playing. I had arrived!

The fear from a few minutes past was erased from my mind as I took in the feeling of being home again. I had forgotten how long it had been since I had been here.

I waded through the shallow knee deep water to the island in the middle of the catacombs that we made our home in.

"Julian?" someone asked. "Is that really you?"

The minute that question was asked, everyone suddenly stopped what they were doing and came over to crowd around me.

"Where have you been?"

"What happened to you?"

"Where's Esmeralda?"

These were among the many questions that all the gypsies suddenly bombarded me with.

"One at a time, one at a time," I said, raising my arms to let everyone settle down. "I'll explain everything."

"Please do, Julian," said the familiar voice of Clopin, who had just emerged from the shadows.

Everyone sat down in a circle around me. It was a bit overwhelming to see so many familiar faces all at once; Anisa, Marcel, Ramus, Heidi, Jasmine. They all crowded around, eager to know where I had been and what had been going on.

"Ok, so it's not exactly good news that I have, so be prepared for that," I warned. "I'll start from the beginning. You remember the night that Esmeralda and I disappeared, right?"

Everyone nodded.

"Well, she was framed for murder that night. What happened was basically this: she went to meet that stupid bastard of a soldier Phoebus at a tavern at the far end of the city. They met together upstairs. Well, Frollo somehow knew about this and followed them there, and I'll admit I did to, because I wanted to know where Esmeralda was going. Well, Frollo found them together, and out of rage, stabbed Phoebus and ran, although he left the knife in Phoebus' back. I rushed in and Esmeralda was desperately trying to pull the knife out, but that's when the other soldiers came in. When they saw Esmeralda pulling the knife out, they assumed that she had stabbed him. We were taken to the Palace of Justice in there carriage, but we managed to escape, and we fled to Notre Dame for sanctuary. We were living there the past few weeks. We knew that sooner or later we'd have to get out and let you guys know what had happened, so tonight, escaped the cathedral to come here. Esmeralda is still there and we have to rescue her before Claude Frollo does something terrible to her. You know how the saying goes, 'Gypsies don't do well inside stone walls'."

Everyone nodded solemnly. I had been wondering how they were going to take all of it. Though they didn't seem happy about it, they seemed to realize that they had to stay calm about everything in order to help Esmeralda. Even Clopin seemed strangely calm about the whole thing.

"We don't have much time," he said. "We must take action immediately."

* * *

**_Um, so that's that. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I know it's been a really long time since I've updated it, sorry! Please review, and I'll try to update ASAP. Luckely it's summer break now, so that means more writing time! haha. Ok, that's about it. Sincerely, Rainforest Treefrog_**


	18. Frollo's Discovery

**Chapter XVII. **

**Frollo's Discovery**

"We must take action immediately!" Clopin repeated to all the gypsies who were crowding around him. "Who's with me?!"

Everybody cheered that they were, by raising torches that had been lit on fire.

"What are we going to do, Clopin?" somebody in the large crowd asked.

"What are we going to do?" Clopin repeated the question. "I'll tell what we are going to do. We're going to storm Notre Dame. We're going to free Esmeralda, and there's nothing the archdeacon of all of Paris can do about it."

"Oh, is that so?" said a voice in the shadows.

Everybody turned to see who it was. A dark hooded figure stood menacingly in the ankle deep water; his cape damp at the edges. Something was eerily familiar about him.

"Who are you!?" Clopin shouted across to him. "What are you doing here?"

At first the man didn't answer. Then, slowly, he lifted the hood from his head, revealing his face…it was Claude Frollo!

He began to cackle to himself as everyone stared at him in horror and disbelief.

"I can't believe it," he chuckled. "I've been searching for this place for years, and now I've finally found it."

"How!?" somebody asked, mortified that the secret was no longer a secret.

"Why, I followed that little scamp Julian all the way here. He had no idea that I was following him, did you Julian?"

I couldn't respond. I was so utterly shocked that not a single word could come out of my mouth. But after I thought about it, it made a small bit of sense. I had felt as if I was being followed the entire way back to the Court of Miracles, but I had had no idea it was the archdeacon.

Frollo cackled again, throwing back his head for a more dramatic villain effect. "And as for Esmeralda, well, her hanging is tomorrow. The Parliament of Paris is stripping her of her sanctuary in Notre Dame and she will be put to death tomorrow in the Greve, a long with all of you. Soldiers, take them!"

With that, the shadows behind him came alive as an entire fleet of soldiers on horseback emerged. From that minute, everywhere in the Court of Miracles was nothing but sheer panic. All I remember is running as fast as I could in the opposite direction of Claude Frollo and his army.

"What have we done?" Marcel asked, running beside me. "He can't just put us all to death. What have we done?"

"He's the archdeacon," I reminded Marcel bitterly, "he can do whatever he feels like as long as he justifies that we 'violated the church' or something."

"But we didn't? A few fake magic tricks and dancing animals maybe, but it's not like we practice witchcraft or anything."

I shrugged. "Let's just get out of here!"

It reminded me of the night when Ramus, Heidi, and Jasmine and I all escaped from Istanbul. Everywhere people were running, screaming, falling, and there was lots of fire. Frollo had mounted a horse and was hearding some of the gypsies strait into the clutches of the soldiers. They were tied at the wrists, and then loaded into carts.

"Where's Anisa?" Marcel asked me.

"I don't know."

"She's pregnant, so she can't run! She'll be trapped here."

"We'll find her," I assured him. We rushed to her room, the stone cell that she and Ramus shared. It was empty.

"Um…ok, she's not there," I mumbled. "What if a solider has already taken her?"

Suddenly we heard screaming, as a young women who was clearly pregnant was grabbed by one of the soldiers who was beating her viciously. It was Anisa.

"Hey leave her alone!" Marcel cried, picking up a rock and hurling it at the soldiers face. "She's pregnant!" The stone hit the soldier square between the eyes and he went out cold.

"Where's Ramus?" Anisa cried.

"Who knows," I replied. "Where's anybody? It's impossible to find people in this confused mess!"

Suddenly the sound of clopping horse hooves was heard right behind us. It was him, Claude Frollo! He reared up on his horse, whose hooves waved dangerously in the air like wrecking balls. We dashed away from him in fear, only to run into…could it be? Phoebus! But he was dead! Wasn't he?

"Phoebus!" I cried as he grabbed us in his rough hands and with the help of a few other soldiers tied us up.

"And who might you be, son?" he asked gruffly.

"You're the bastard who got Esmeralda and all of us into this mess. Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"Ah, I survived, it was a mere cut," he replied. "I'm over it."

"So, won't you testify for us!? The only reason that Esmeralda is about to be hanged is because everybody thinks she killed you. But she didn't. And you're not dead anyways, won't you let someone know, so that we can be spared being killed for no reason?"

But Phoebus just shook his head and waved his hand. "Esmeralda. Ughhh, I don't want to hear that hideous name. She was a witch, she was. And besides, I'm engaged to Fleur de lys."

"You won't even help us?"

By now Phoebus had completely ignored my pleas and had loaded us into the cart with some of our other fellow.

And so, that is how every single gypsy in the Court of Miracles was put on trial, if you will. The funny thing is, we never even got a trial. I was told that while we were captured, Esmeralda had had a small trial at the Palace of Justice, but a false confession had been beaten out of here in the torture chamber. We were going to the gallows.

* * *

**_Hope you enjoyed! This story is almost over! I'm thinking of adding two or three more chapters, so stay tuned to find out the grand finale of the story. As I've said before, this is a mix of the movie and the book. In the book, Phoebus DOES actually survive the knife wound from Frollo, but he doesn't bother telling anybody because he doesn't want his fiance Fleur de lys to know he had an affair with a gypsy. So yah, that part is from the book. The part from the movie is Frollo capturing all the gypsies in the Court of Miracles after he finds it. Well, hope you enjoyed! Please review! Sincerely, Rainforest Treefrog._**


	19. Quasimodo To The Rescue!

**Chapter XVIII.**

** Quasimodo To The Rescue**

"Citizens of Paris," boomed Claude Frollo's voice so that the entire crowd that had gathered in the square beneath Notre Dame could hear what was being said. "These gypsies have disobeyed. They dance in the streets, practice witchcraft," he droned on and on. His list was quite extensive, and most of it was made up. But I guess that when you are the archdeacon of Paris, nobody cares about those things, they just want to see a good hanging.

"It is evil such as this," he continued, "that prompts us to their execution."

Turning to one of the soldiers, he muttered, "bring out that gypsy girl Esmeralda."

"Yes sir."

In the other end of the square, a separate cart pulled by a scrawny brown mule rattled towards the cathedral's doors. It stopped in front of Claude Frollo. In it, was none other than Esmeralda.

I couldn't believe what I saw. She looked terrible! Black, blue and red bruises and cuts scarred her beautiful brown face and her raven colored hair had lost its glossy sheen. Her clothes were torn and mottled and her usually sparkling green eyes were dull and gray.

Claude Frollo hadn't been joking when he had told us that the confession was 'beaten out of her.' What had once been beautiful and happy was now sad and broken. Tears slid down Esmeralda's cheeks.

Claude Frollo resumed his speech. "Here's the worst of them all!" he cried to the crowd. "This gypsy witch that they call Esmeralda, has murdered the captain of the Royal Archers, our very own Phoebus de Chateaupers."

"No she didn't!" I couldn't help shout out. "And Phoebus is not dead. We saw him last night at the Court of Miracles. He took us captive! He was fine, the knife wound was healed!"

The archdeacon looked at me with a vicious glare of contempt and hatred. "Be quiet you insolent gypsy vermin!" he growled.

Suddenly, the loud sound of creaking hinges was heard as one of Notre Dame's magnificent wooden doors opened. From the dark, cavernous interior of the cathedral, a line of monks emerged. Solemnly, the sang one of their eery chants in some strange language that I couldn't decipher. Probably Latin or something. It seemed as though all the Catholic priests and monks spoke that language.

Claude Frollo turned from the crowd, to all of us, huddled together in the carts.

"Have you all asked God to forgive your sins before you leave our world?" he asked all of us, a hint of amusement in his voice. Then he turned to Esmeralda and began to whisper in her ear. I couldn't understand what he was saying to her, but I could make out a few phrases: _"it's not too late," _and_ "I can still save you."_

When he was done, he looked Esmeralda, smiling. "Well? Have you decided?"

Esmeralda glared at him. "Be yours?" she shrieked at him. "Never! I'd rather die. Not even hell can unite us. Leave me alone you corrupt priest."

The smile on Claude Frollo's face vanished. His face grew red and his lips curled back into a sort of snarl.

"Fine gypsy! Have it your way! I hope you enjoy hell because that's exactly where you and all of your gypsy comrades from the Court of Miracles are going! As of now, the Court of Miracles is no more! Soldiers! Take these lowly vagabonds to the Gréve to be hanged at the gallows!"

With that, the carts that we were being contained in began to rattle away across the pavement of cobblestones and out of the square.

"Esmeralda! I'll save you!" a voice suddenly cried out. The voice was familiar. _Very_ familiar. It was coming from above. I looked up at the bell towers of Notre Dame. They looked like to giants, rising up over Paris. But wait, there was somebody up there! Against the afternoon sky, it was clear that the hunchbacked silhouette was Quasimodo. But what was he doing? That question was soon answered. Hanging tightly to a rope that was tied securely to one of the gargoyles protruding from the balcony at the top of the bell tower, Quasimodo swooped down into the square like a monkey swinging on a vine through the African rainforest.

The bustling, gossiping noise of the square was silent as everybody watched the hunchback. Not even Frollo could say anything as he watched his adoptive son land on the ground feet first in front of the cathedral with the grace of a swan. For one thing, no one had ever imagined that a creature as deformed as Quasimodo could move with such cat-like agility, and for another thing, nobody had the slightest idea of what he was going to do.

"Coming through, move it!" Quasimodo shouted as he made his way through the crowd towards the carts that were taking us towards the Gréve. More specifically, he was heading to the small wood-slatted cart that Esmeralda was in.

"Quasimodo!" she cried as the hunchback jumped into the cart and unbound her arms and legs. She was overjoyed to see him. None of the soldiers even made an attempt to stop what was going on; they were probably scared of Quasimodo.

Picking up Esmeralda in his strong arms, he leaped out of the cart and rushed back to the cathedral.

By now, the stunned crowd had been brought back to their senses and Claude Frollo was chuckling.

"My dear boy Quasimodo," he said smilingly wickedly. "Taking your gypsy beauty back inside the cathedral will do her no good this time. The Parliament of Paris has stripped her of her sanctuary there. If you take her inside, we will still hang her."

Quasimodo's beaming face frowned with dispair and sadness. Then his face lit up again and he flashed a toothless grin at the crowd. Before any of the people could understand what was happening, Quasimodo dashed away behind the cathedral towards the river bank. Esmeralda was still in his arms.

"After them!" Frollo roared. Immediately, everybody in the square; soldiers, clergy and townspeople alike stampeded in the direction that Quasimodo and Esmeralda had gone. The rest of the gypsies and I were left alone in the square, still bound inside the carts.

"Djali!" Clopin whispered to the goat, also bound in one of the carts. The little goat looked over at him with her beaming intelligent eyes.

"Chew!" Clopin said to her, making exaggerated motions with his jaws so she could understand what he meant.

Djali, who really was a very intelligent little goat understood immediately and because goats have such strong jaws and teeth and will eat just about anything, she chewed through her ropes in no time. Now that she was free, she walked over to Clopin and unbound him as well.

"Good Djali," Clopin said affectionately, patting the little goat on the head.

"All right," Clopin said to all of us. "We're going to escape!"

We all cheered.

"But what about Esmeralda?" somebody asked.

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Clopin said assumingly. "But first let's get out of here!"

"Where are we going?" I asked, as we all untied each other.

"Back to the Court of Miracles," Clopin replied. "We'll get our belongings, and then we must flee the country!"

When we returned to the catacombs however, we were devastated to find that the soldiers had looted it and stolen most of our belongings, or simply destroyed them.

"I guess after they took us away, some of them stayed around to make sure that there wasn't anybody hiding and then decided to just trash the place," Marcel reasoned.

I nodded. The thing is, even though the Court of Miracles was underneath Paris in the catacombs, a place where dead bodies are put, we had fixed it up so that it had felt like home. Well, not anymore. Now it was littered and destroyed and not even the sewer rats would want to live here.

"Everybody gather around," Clopin called sadly. "It seems as if the Court of Miracles really is gone. No matter I guess, we have to leave anyway. The royal archers and Frollo will come here to look for us soon, so gather up any remnants that you can find, and then we must leave Paris I'm afraid. We'll go somewhere safer, maybe…Spain perhaps? I hear that there are many gypsies there and they don't have the same troubles that we do."

We all nodded. But not because we wanted to leave Paris. None of us did. Paris was our home. It was sad to think that we'd never again be able to fish along the Seine River, or listen to the monks chanting inside Notre Dame at mass every Sunday, or hear the grand cathedral's bells ringing. That was over. We were fleeing from our home, and leaving France, the country that I had begun to love so much.


	20. Escape From Paris

**Chapter XIX**

** Escape From Paris**

The city was dark and cold when we emerged from the catacombs, carrying with us the few belongings that we still had. Night had fallen.

"Shhhh," Clopin whispered to all of us, putting his finger to his lips.

We all nodded. We were leaving Paris for good, we were going to escape, but if anyone caught us, then our plans would be foiled. And the gallows were not exactly welcoming.

Strangely enough, there was a bright red glow in the distance, against the dark silhouettes of the rooftops, spires and chimneys of the city. Fire? It was in the direction of the Gréve and Notre Dame, on the island, the place where the day's bizarre events had taken place.

Had the city been set ablaze? Claude Frollo and the soldiers were searching for us, and they must be trying to smoke us out. Speaking of which, where was Esmeralda? Had they indeed caught her and Quasimodo? The thought was frightening.

Clopin must have been thinking the same thing, because he asked out loud, "has anybody seen Esmeralda?"

Everybody shook their head that they had not. Clopin sighed. "We won't be able to stick around and wait for her. Any minute now Frollo and his army will be here. With or without Esmeralda, we have to leave."

The other gypsies nodded sadly. Where was she? I couldn't bare facing the fact that she might have to be left behind.

Suddenly, voices were heard down the street from us.

"Quick everybody!" Clopin whispered, "follow me."

We all obeyed as Clopin led us down the street in the opposite direction and down some stairs under a bridge. There, we waited as the people talking, who were in fact soldiers sent to search for us, crossed the bridge overhead.

"Where the devil did those gypsies go?" one of them asked his comrade.

The other one replied that he hadn't the slightest clue.

"And that Esmeralda, has anyone found her yet?" the soldier continued.

"No. They're still searching for her too. Ah, I can't wait until all of this nonsense is just over. The sooner Paris is free of all gypsies, vagabonds and vagrants the better."

The other one laughed in agreement, and soon they were too far away to hear what was being said.

When at last not even the footsteps or clopping of horse hooves could be heard, we all breathed a sigh of relief. They had completely passed over us without even realizing that we were right under their feet. I was also relieved to hear that Esmeralda had not yet been caught, although that still didn't fix the problem of where she was. Who knew where Quasimodo had taken her?

"Let's resume our journey," Clopin said to all of us after a few more moments to make sure that we were indeed alone.

We all nodded and followed Clopin. By now dawn was just an hour away, and we could see the faint strip of light far in the distance on the horizon. To avoid being easily seen by anybody, we had to leave the city before daybreak!

"Shhh," someone whispered to a few small children who were giggling softly. "This is serious! If we get caught a second time, then it's to the gallows for us."

At this, the children's smiles vanished and they became very silent.

"Good."

"Not a very happy crowd, eh?" Marcel whispered to me.

I shrugged. "What's there to be happy about? We're leaving our home, we don't know where Esmeralda is, and any second now we could be discovered and then hung by sunrise."

Marcel nodded. "Hey, Anisa doesn't look too good, does she?"

He pointed to his sister and I looked at her. Now that somebody had pointed it out, Marcel was right, she_ didn't_ look good. Not at all. On her face was an unusually distressed expression and she seemed to be having troubles breathing. Also, she was clutching her stomach with one hand while using the other one to balance herself.

"She _does_ seem ill," I agreed.

"Everybody be quiet," Clopin suddenly called to all of us. He halted.

"What's going on?" somebody asked.

"Shhhh! Listen!"

We all did as he said and listened. We were nearing the city limits by now, but that didn't put a damper on the danger we were in by any means.

"Listen!" Clopin repeated.

It was that same, unfortunately familiar voice: the voice of Claude Frollo. It was nearby, in an alley, talking to somebody, most likely a soldier.

"I don't care if we have to burn all of Paris down," he was saying. "If we don't find those gypsies, then so help me, you'll lose your position as Captain of the Royal Archers!"

Captain of the Royal Archers? So he was talking to Phoebus!

"But your honor-" Phoebus said in protest before being interrupted.

"Don't give me any buts! I'm the archdeacon. And if you oppose me, then that's treason against the church!"

Phoebus didn't bother to respond, he just gave a frustrated muffled grumble.

They were getting closer, their footsteps on the cobblestones of the street were clearly audible, and were slowly growing ever so much louder. We all held our breath as we huddled together in a nearby alley, hoping that the sinister archdeacon would simply pass by without noticing a thing.

Suddenly, Anisa lost all control and broke down. "It's coming!" she gasped. "The baby's coming! My water broke!" Her face was beet red, and drops of sweat were dripping down her face. Ramus was at her side, coaxing her gently.

Clopin on the other hand, was in sheer panic! Frollo and Phoebus were mere footsteps away and now of all times Anisa was going to give birth!

"Why now?" he whispered to himself. "Somebody get Anisa out of here, she's only going to attract attention!"

Quickly, quietly, and as carefully as possible, Ramus, Marcel and I dragged Anisa away. By now she was sobbing.

"It hurts so much!" she cried in agonizing pain!

"Shhhh," we tried to coax her. "They'll hear us!"

"Let me down!" she cried. "Let me down!"

We all exchanged nervous glances and looked back to see if anyone was coming. We were behind a warehouse of some sort, perhaps a carpenter's shop, and the smell of garbage reeked. Rats were scurrying through little mounds of food. On the count of three, we gently set Anisa down on some cobblestones and propped up her head against some wood blocks that had been laying there.

"How are you feeling?" Marcel asked her, nervous about his older sister.

"She's giving birth, how do you _think_ she's feeling?"

Anisa just ignored us, but continued to gasp for air like she was being strangled.

We were near the river I suddenly realized.

"Hey Anisa, do you need some water?"

She didn't respond verbally; she was in way too much pain to do that, but she _did_ nod her head that she wanted some.

I got up then and quickly searched for something to hold water. Near one of the piles of rotting garbage and food behind the warehouse, was a flower pot. It had a hole in the bottom, but I found a small pebble that fit perfectly inside and then gathered some water from the Seine.

When I had returned, Anisa was in as much pain as ever. Her body was shaking with convulsions. I handed her the flower pot which she eagerly gulped down.

Suddenly her eyes got really big and she began to scream.

"Shhhhh, what's wrong?" Ramus asked his wife.

"It's coming out!" Anisa cried. "I can feel it! It's coming out!"

"Somebody get down there to help the baby come out!" Marcel cried.

"Don't look at me!" I said. "I'm not going down there!"

"Well _somebody_ has to!"

"Ramus, you're the father of this baby, _you_ do it!"

Ramus nodded, his hands were shaking. He must be so nervous.

Anisa began to convulse violently now, and there was no way to silence her blood curdling screams of pain.

"You're doing great Anisa, my love," Ramus told her, his voice quivering with anxiety. "The baby's almost here."

"What the devil is all this screaming about?" asked a nearby approaching voice. Uh oh, I knew that voice! Frollo! He sounded closer than ever!

"What are we going to do?" I mouthed to Marcel.

He shrugged, a look of terror plastered to his face.

"Could it be one of those gypsy wenches?" Frollo asked to himself, cackling softly. "I do seem to remember that one of them was pregnant yesterday afternoon before they all escaped. In fact it sounds as if she might even be giving birth. All right gypsies, no more games!"

Suddenly, the priest who had been stalking us for so long emerged from a shadowy alley. After looking at Anisa, Ramus, Marcel, and I and at what was happening, he lifted back his head and exploded with evil laughter!

"You're time is up gypsies!" he said, slowly approaching us.

Fear gripped all of us like a bone cold skeleton. The smile on Frollo's face_; I've won,_ he seemed to be telepathically saying to us. _It's all over, you've got nowhere to hide, give up!_

"What…what are you going to do?" Marcel asked, trying to be brave.

Frollo laughed. "What do you _think_? You tell _me_?"

Marcel didn't respond.

"Please leave us alone," Anisa begged to him in between screams of pain. This was probably the most traumatic childbirth in the history of the world.

"I can't do that," said Frollo. "The hangman is waiting. Phoebus will come with his soldiers when I call him. Face it, it's the end."

I couldn't take it any longer. Claude Frollo had been terrorizing gypsies like ourselves for long enough. Well, today the cat was going to go home without mice. I picked up the flower pot and hurled it at the priest's head. The pot shattered into broken red pieces of clay and Claude Frollo fell to the ground unconscious. It had hit him square in the forehead. It wouldn't kill him, but at least he was knocked out cold so that we could escape.

"What was that!?" Marcel cried.

"I had to do it. It's him or us, and besides he'll be fine. Just a big headache when he wakes up."

We had been so absorbed in the confrontation with the archdeacon that we had completely forgotten that Anisa was still trying to give birth to her baby. Anisa was almost writhing on the ground. It truly was difficult to see someone who we loved so much be in so much pain.

"Come on my love, almost there!" Ramus tried to encourage her.

Suddenly, Anisa gave one final push, and the sound of crying was heard. Not _her_ crying, the baby!

"It's out! It's out!" Ramus cried out excitedly. "I'm a father!"

Anisa lay her head down and breathed a deep sigh. "Let me see my baby."

"It's a boy!" Ramus said as he gently handed the infant to his wife.

"Oh my precious," Anisa said smiling at her naked newborn. She was crying. But they were not tears of pain, they were tears of happiness. She exchanged a loving look at her husband Ramus and they kissed.

"What are you going to name the baby?" we asked.

Anisa suddenly looked puzzled. Obviously, she and Ramus hadn't thought about that.

"What do _you _think Ramus?" she asked him.

Ramus shrugged. "I don't know. I like the name Hector."

"Hector?" I asked. "Why _Hector_?"

"Don't you remember?" Ramus asked me. "It was the name of a brave Trojan warrior, from our homeland in Turkey who died for honor in battle! Remember father used to tell us stories about him from the Iliad?"

"I like the name Hector," Anisa agreed. "Hector will be his name."

Suddenly groaning was heard. We looked over to see that Claude Frollo was waking up from his coma.

"Let's all get out of here quickly!" Marcel whispered. The rest of us nodded in agreement.

"Ah, a new addition to our big family," Clopin said when we returned to the rest of the gypsies.

"His name is Hector," Ramus said proudly.

Clopin smiled. He turned to Anisa. "I'm so sorry we made you leave," he said to her. "But Frollo would have discovered us all for sure if you had stayed."

"Oh yah, speaking of which, he's still around here," I mentioned, "so we should leave right about now."

"Ah, well this is our goodbye," Clopin said as we all gazed at the city below. We escaped successfully to the hills outside of Paris and were looking at it for the last time. It was a wreck. Buildings, streets, houses and warehouses were aflame. Frollo and his men had set Paris on fire, hoping to find us by smoking us out.

Above all this, Notre Dame still towered over the city as majestic as ever. The beautiful cathedral was what I was going to miss most about Paris. It struck me odd that it was noon and the bells weren't ringing. That must mean Quasimodo was still gone, where had he and Esmeralda gone?

Some of the other gypsies were tearing up; this place had been there home their entire lives and now they had to give it up forever.

"Ok everyone," Clopin said after a few moments, trying his best to be cheerful. "To Madrid!"

"To Madrid!" we all we sang in unison.

And so that is our story. After escaping from Paris, we traveled south through the French countryside until we came to the mighty Pyrenees Mountains. From there, we crossed the mountains into Spain where we made our new home in Madrid. It wasn't the same as Paris, but it was still a great city.

What happened to everybody?

Well, Clopin continued to rule as the gypsy king. You know how he is. He eventually began to grow old and went slightly crazy, but then again, what's the difference?

Good old Pierre Gringoire became a successful playwright and author. His books were published by a Spanish publishing company in Barcelona (which by the way the printing press was recently invented). He never married again, after the disaster with Esmeralda, but the little goat Djali became one of his best friends, and he took good care of her.

Ramus and Anisa had a happy marriage together and several other children. They call me Uncle Hulian, because in Spain, the Spaniards pronounce their j's like h's.

Little Hector grew up into a clever, scheming prankster. Whenever I visit Ramus and Anisa, he has a trick up his sleeve.

Jasmine and Heidi moved to Portugal, but we still keep in contact.

My good old friend Marcel became the last thing anybody would expect: a bull fighter. He hasn't gotten gored yet by a bull, so wish him luck!

What about me? Well, I fell in love with a gypsy girl in Madrid named Carmen. We married, and have four kids: Manuel, Pierre, José, and Raquel. We live in a villa on the Spanish Riviera. Life is good.

As for Esmeralda? Well, none of us ever saw her again after that day before we left Paris. What happened to her we'll never know. But I can tell you this: several years after everything happened, I made a visit back to France. When I arrived in Paris, I soon found out that many things had happened. Claude Frollo was dead and Phoebus was in trouble for cheating on his wife Fleur de lys…again! This time he finally got caught. Because adultery was such a severe crime against the church, he had fled from Paris to avoid the death penalty. There were rumors that he was hiding in Italy.

But this was not the purpose of the trip. I asked if anybody had heard of a gypsy girl named Esmeralda. Most people didn't seem to remember who she was, and those who did, said that neither she, nor Quasimodo had been seen since the day that all the gypsies had escaped.

I sighed. But there was one other reason that I had returned to Paris. I wanted to see the Court of Miracles once more, before I returned to Spain.

The catacombs were still there. Sometimes the catacombs in big cities had to be removed if flooding occurred, but this one still remained. When I reached the little island in the middle of the dark cavern that we had all lived on, I made a scary discovery. Two skeletons, one with a misshapen and deformed spine and unusually long arms, and the other one who appeared to be a gypsy girl, with the bronze bracelets and ankle bands still on, were locked in a tight embrace. They remain there to this day, in peace forever.

**THE END**

**

* * *

_Well, that's the end! I hope you enjoyed it! For all you people out there who haven't read the actual book Hunchback of Notre Dame, read it! It's a really good story, and very complex. It's not exactly a happy story, because yes, Esmeralda dies, and so does Quasimodo. That part at the end about them being found together in the catacombs after they died was actually in the book, and I thought hey, what a cool way to end the story! Special thanks of course go to Opaque Opal, disneyqueen, and One Fine Wire, because they reviewed this story all the time and gave me tips. You guys rock, and I hope you enjoyed the ending! That's it, and now since it's very late at night, I'm going to bed. Sincerely, Rainforest Treefrog!_  
**


End file.
